Nightmare Of Love
by ThePhobiaPhoebe
Summary: Ace develops a crush on his older brother, Marco, but Ace's love results in a nightmare that drives him to the brink of insanity, a twisted creature haunting him with the knowledge that he can never have what he truly wants. And, believing this, he purposefully puts a rift in his relationship with Marco that the blonde desperately tries to fix. M for language, sexual content, etc.
1. Fuckity Fuck

_**Warning: Characters use strong language. **  
_

_**P.S. This is written in current time. It is kind of slow going. My first time writing a yaoi fan fiction. Enjoy...**_

* * *

_I watched in awed silence as Marco, seemingly unafraid of the highest of heights, climbed towards the top of the orphanage by way of a rickety ladder. He was my older brother. Though I didn't know his exact age…considering the photos mounted on the walls of Pops' office, he had to be at least twice my own, and I admired him like only a ten year old boy could. Whenever he came to visit Pops, I would follow him around and observe him, curious and diligent in my scrutiny. He didn't visit as often, now that his job was taking up a lot of his time, but, when he did make a trip our way, he always took a moment to greet the little ones. Including me._

_The ladder rattled as Marco removed the entirety of his weight from it and stood at the edge of the shingled roof, studying the unbelievably large tree facing him. Then he leapt. My heart stuttered in my chest, fearful of what might happen, but a grin split my face when Marco's hands caught a thick limb. Even I would have hesitated before taking that jump. But Marco was fearless._

_Soon enough, my kite was back in my possession while Stefan eagerly wagged his tail and let out cheerful barks. I gave Marco a wide, adoring smile and ran off to play with the household dog, kite in tow._

_The thought of Marco left my mind almost immediately. I mean, I looked up to the man for his strong will, confidence, and vigor. He was my role model in life. But…I was a bit of a procrastinator and kept telling myself that I'd get around to being more like him _someday_. For now, I'd enjoy my childhood while I could and focus on removing all fear later on in life. Because _nothing _scared Marco._

I was startled awake by a very familiar noise, jolting upright in bed as I scrambled to silence the shrieking alarm. I snatched the house remote from under my pillow and clicked the designated button to put an end to the room's ruckus. It was a very expensive 'alarm clock', installed in the very walls of the bedroom.

Once the room was peacefully quiet again, I flopped back onto my bed and let the remote tumble from my fingers, reveling in the warmth of my blankets while I still had the chance. I shifted my bleary gaze to the thick drapes that guarded my floor-to-ceiling window, blocking my view of the garden outside. They were a dark wine red with silver tassels. I considered reaching for the house remote again and opening the curtains just to see if the weather was nice outside, but figured it could wait until later. It was almost always cloudy in these areas anyways.

My house had two floors, not quite as large as the orphanage had been, and the man who had adopted me (because of connections to my real father), Monkey D. Garp, was never home. For the last seven years, I was forced to become adjusted to the routine of taking care of things around the house. And my foster brother, Luffy. On the upside, Garp made really good money and my real father had left a large sum of heritage, which was evident in the house's posh appearance.

My room was spacious, the floor a plush snowy white carpet while the dove gray walls sported several paintings or charcoal drawings. I had a large desk stuffed into one corner holding my laptop, my desktop computer, my printer, a handful of flash drives, and my art utensils. In the top drawer, there were a bunch of sketchbooks filled with all of the incomplete and completed drawings I had done over the years. The second drawer had an assortment of things from painkillers to lock picking tools to fireworks and a box of cigarettes. The bottom drawer had a stack of printing paper, my birth certificate, Luffy's birth certificate, a bottle of sake, a wad of hundred dollar bills, a three hundred dollar camera, and a photo album. However, behind that would be my porn stash, safely hidden from unsuspecting eyes. Prying eyes, however, would get quite the shock.

There was a dresser on one wall along with a large mirror. Beside it was a door to my walk-in closet and on the other side was a door to my personal bathroom. The bedroom door was on the opposite side of the room, the substantial double doors made of a very pretty mahogany, like all the other wooden items in the room. Rugs of various shapes, sizes, patterns, and textures littered the floor. But the color scheme of the room consisted only of shades of red, orange, gold, white, silver, and black. Except for the paintings. Those involved bright and vivid bursts of all the colors on the color wheel.

My bed was a large circular mattress in the center of the room. The sheets were made out of silver silk; the blankets and pillows were mismatched black and white animal prints, but a few were made of a plain color, like red or gold; the materials varied from satin and silk to comfortable linen.

I forced myself to grope around once again to find the pesky remote, clicking a few buttons. The curtains drew back from the window, letting me see that it was sunny outside and the garden was…white. Not many people had a garden in the middle of a blizzard country. But lots of money could manage at least this much. Then I heard a clicking noise from the walls and an automated voice filled the room.

"_It is 6:57 AM_," it proclaimed.

Heaving a sigh, I stretched, rolled my naked ass out of bed, and marched into my expensive bathroom to take a refreshing shower. I came out feeling relaxed and ready to deal with the day. Or so I thought.

Staring down my reflection in the bathroom mirror, I grinned my broad, rascally smile. Then I prepped myself for the day. I carefully tousled my soft ebony waves into a perfect imperfection; brushed my teeth, flossed, and used mouthwash; washed my face; then checked for any chin hairs. Nope, no chin hairs today. I didn't understand why I had never gotten facial hair. I was already seventeen and according to everyone else, it was about time for me to grow myself a beard. Not that I would keep it. I'd shave it off after I bragged about it. Marco had facial hair. Thatch had facial hair. Vista had facial hair. Everyone had facial hair but me. And Luffy.

I shook my head and returned to my bedroom. Digging through my dresser, I came up with a pair of faded blue jeans, not too baggy but not too tight, and a dark burgundy t-shirt that clung to my fit figure like a dream. Knowing breakfast would be gone if I didn't hurry, I rushed downstairs and turned right to enter the dining room. Luffy was already seated at the table, wearing his customary straw-hat and short jeans paired with a short sleeved green hoodie. He had hair black as coal and these big brown puppy dog eyes, bordered with eyelashes girls envied him for.

"Morning, Luffy," I greeted.

"I'm hungry," was his response, his charmingly cute face twisting into an expression close to despair.

I rolled my eyes, traipsed over to Luffy, and, after knocking the straw-hat back, I ruffled the kid's messy raven locks. Luffy didn't bother with smoothing it back down. "When are you _not _hungry?"

Just as I seated myself next to the perpetual ball of energy, Sanji opened the doors to the kitchen. Pancakes, waffles, eggs, sausage, omelets, and so much more came flooding through to the two of us and our watering mouths. Sanji was our household cook, serving us with delicious meals in heaping amounts. Of course, I could cook, but I didn't feel like doing it most days. However, all last week and most of the week before, Sanji had been gone on a cooking tournament with his foster father, Zeff. I'd had no choice but to cook during the time. Obviously, I'd chosen all meat and very little of anything else. This was Sanji's first day back and both Luffy and I were happy to have him here.

Luffy stretched his rubber limbs as soon as the platters of food touched down on the table. I snorted a short breath and leapt to fight for the closest stack of scrumptious syrupy pancakes. This was a morning ritual. We would wrestle and argue over food, fill our nearly bottomless guts, lay around for five to ten minutes, then climb into my car to go pick up Chopper and head to school.

Chopper lived three houses down from us and he was one of Luffy's buddies, so I had no problem taking him to school. Actually, Luffy had made friends with everyone on our street. Not that I was surprised. Even if he was an oddball, he had his ways of charming others into his circle.

Robin, my history teacher and an archaeologist, along with her two housemates, Nami and Nojiko, who lived right next to us. Brooke, the music teacher and the skeleton, living between Chopper and Robin. Usopp, the long nosed liar who lived on the other side of the street from Chopper. Across from Brooke was Zoro, Luffy's best friend aside from Usopp, and maybe soon-to-be boyfriend, though I couldn't be certain. Sanji lived across from Robin, but often came over to make food for us, as he had been hired to do. And, next to Usopp, was Franky, the cyborg who had designed our house and even wired it to be so high tech. And then there was a house across from ours that I preferred to keep out of my thoughts, considering who lived there.

But this was a rich district. Everyone here made lots of money for what they did. Brooke was a rich musician. Robin was a famous archaeologist. Sanji's foster father, Zeff, was a world renowned chef and Sanji was learning from him. Nami and Nojiko (though Nami was still in school) were landscapers praised to have the best end result. I could vouch for that for I bought their services in hopes that my yard wouldn't be dull and boring snow, snow, and _snow_. Chopper's caretaker, Kureha, was a distinguished doctor, and Chopper was learning what she had to offer. Franky owned a successful car business. Zoro's foster father ran a dojo that got a lot of applications from government authorities these days. And, Usopp's dad, Yasopp, owned a thriving gun business.

I didn't really own a business, yet, but my father had left me the four businesses that had flourished when he was still alive. A world-wide publishing company, all about books with mystery and adventure. A world-wide set up of amusement parks. A world-wide candy and ice cream parlor. And world-wide movie theaters. While I was still in school (this included college, which I would be forced to go to if I wanted to completely inherit my father's businesses), Izo, Vista, and Jozu would be taking care of the majority of the business. I still helped out in some areas. But, in all actuality, I was a billionaire for sitting on my ass and doing nothing. And my money kept rising. Even if I were to demolish my house and rebuild it, the money I spent would be back in my bank account before the day was out.

But that didn't mean I acted like a rich, spoiled brat…At least, not all the time.

* * *

I slouched down into the cushioned chair as the grumpy principle, Akainu, glowered menacingly at me. Because I was already used to the man's unpleasant expressions, I simply let my eyes rove over to the window directly behind Akainu's desk. I examined the cloudless blue sky as I awaited the routine lecture. Lucky us. We get to see the sun today.

The majority of the authority figures in the school had some kind of connection (or worked for) the government. Akainu was a fleet admiral, but also had to serve as a principle. Hell, Aokiji was an admiral but had to serve as a teacher. Working for the government in these parts usually meant working inside a school for people who had acquired devil fruit abilities and fighting crime on the weekends and over holiday breaks. Even summer break. On occasion, if the need rose, and the government official had to take care of his government business before his school business, a substitute would be found until the official could return from the government business. Unfortunately for me, that didn't happen very often.

"First, you get into a fight," Akainu began, only to pause and sip from the cup of coffee he'd been fondling since I had arrived. "You know what, these talks don't seem to improve your attitude any. How about we just skip the scolding and go straight to the part where I send you to isolation?"

"Sounds good to me," I agreed at once, not even bothering to make eye contact. "But you said that last time, too. And I _still _had to endure the lecture." It's not that I liked isolation. Quite the opposite, in fact. It's just that I knew I couldn't get out of it. I might as well cut out the boring talk about 'improving my attitude' and 'controlling my emotions'. Honestly, if there weren't laws about it, Akainu would probably have beat me to death by now. But, much to the principle's disappointment and my copious amounts of relief, there were laws. Plenty of laws.

Still, even if he couldn't out right kill the students, he could torture them with long periods of isolation.

Isolation was worse than detention. You were sent to detention for getting into a fist fight or for cussing at a teacher or being tardy all the time. You were sent to isolation when you lost control of (or misused) your devil fruit abilities and nearly killed someone.

In isolation, you would sit in a room and do nothing but continuous bookwork from your normal classes. The room, located in another building on the other side of the school property, would usually be small with off-white walls and plain tiled floors. There would be a single desk in the center of the room and, in front of it, there would be a single window that faced the road and the snow (lots and lots of snow). And that was where you would serve out your sentence, counting the cars and determining the most popular color for vehicles. Or counting how many little hills of snow there were in the stretch of snow beyond the road. I only ever reduced myself to counting the snow hills when there was absolutely nothing else I could do. _Snow, snow, snow. Snow everywhere._

I had deduced that white and silver tied for the most popular color the last time I'd spent time locked away. Of course, that's not to say that was true. That's just the color of the majority of the vehicles that whizzed past during that long, long week. White vehicles to go with my boringly white room and the boringly white snow.

"Portgas?" Akainu questioned with a very healthy dose of irritation in his tone.

I idly wondered if Akainu had been talking while I was drifting around in my own thoughts. Probably. Akainu never knew when to shut up. Instead of answering him, I merely flicked my storm cloud colored eyes to the other man and then back to the window, huffing out a breath. That was all the response he was going to get from me, if only to keep myself from insulting the heavily muscled man and getting my days of isolation doubled, if not tripled.

"As I was saying, you need to learn to control yourself. If Sengoku would allow it, I would deal with you as you like to try to deal with your problems. But-"

Akainu's words blended together and became background noise once again. Just my luck to have to endure the talking to, _again_. On the up side, I'd gotten good at tuning it out over the years. Sometimes, I really hated school. I specifically hated this school. It wasn't even a normal school. No, this one was made for the ones unfortunate enough to have eaten devil fruits.

Only those with unnatural abilities could attend these types of schools. There were special classes and rules. You had to take a class to learn to control your ability. You had to take a class where you spent all your time doing essays over devil fruits. Then you had the normal classes that all the normal people had to take at normal schools. You had two more hours of school than people without devil fruit abilities and ten class periods a day. Using your devil fruit ability outside of your assigned practice classroom was strictly forbidden. All teachers had to have seastone cuffs stashed somewhere in their class. Each teacher got to have two class periods off, excluding their lunch break. And, on top of all of that junk, there were all the normal rules that all the normal people had to follow at normal schools.

I had decided that devil fruits were pains in the asses a long time ago.

"Portgas D. Ace!"

I nearly jumped straight out of my seat, startled from my pity party. Akainu was red in the face and scowling deeply, meaning he'd discovered that I wasn't even paying him any mind. This made me become rather alert and a little excited. Pissing Akainu off would only perk my day up, as long as I didn't outright insult the man. The small, quirky smile that lit upon my face and the devious glint that came to life in my eyes likely only further incensed the large man.

Akainu slammed his coffee mug down, the liquid inside sloshing out over the rim and onto the desk. "You weren't even paying attention to me, you little-"

"Whoa, easy there, tiger," I teased in my most innocent of voices. "You don't want to burst a blood vessel, now, do you?"

"Why you!" This came out in a shout that was probably heard by everyone in the printing room. "Don't mock me!"

Whenever I would shout, others would always tell me one irritating thing. I hated it when people said it and I was going to use it in hopes that it would have the same effect on him. "Now, let's not forget our inside voices, Akainu. Er, I mean, Mr. Sakazuki."

I was certain that had it not been for the door opening, Akainu would have leapt across his workspace and throttled me. I glanced back at the door, curious as to who just saved me from Akainu's wrath. It was…Marco. My older brother. The one I had admired. The one I had looked up to the most. My art teacher.

A displeased expression soon found its way to my attractive (I'm just…a little narcissistic…), freckled face as Marco met my gaze unflinchingly. I gave an angry snort, crossed my arms, and decided to let Marco handle Akainu.

Yes, I knew I was being a complete ass to Marco. I had been for the past two years. Every time I saw my mysterious older brother (called mysterious because not even Thatch, Marco's best friend, knew what Marco's devil fruit power was), I acted mean and a little snotty. Okay, a lot snotty. But I have my reasons, which I won't divulge to anyone. Well, there was _one _person who knew…But he wouldn't be telling anyone. Ever. Never ever.

"Isolation, again?" Marco questioned from his position at the door.

I rolled my eyes, thinking that the art teacher made it sound like I went there _all_ the time. Sadly, I had to agree. I went there a lot. Mainly because of my 'uncontrollable temper' and my tendency to call to my inner fire.

The principle gave my aggravated twist of the lips an amused look. "Yes. Isolation and an hour of detention after school everyday for the rest of the school week. He'll start serving his sentence today. After I've written his isolation slip, you will take him to his locker and let him gather his supplies then you will guide him directly to the isolation building. No detours."

_Why does it sound like I'm going to prison?_ I heaved a sigh and pushed out of my seat. Marco may be an art teacher but everyone knew he was unbelievably strong, even if his devil fruit ability was unknown. That's why he was one of the few teachers who were trusted to take care of the isolated students. He had four periods for his art class, two break periods, and four periods to watch over those in isolation. He was also the first and foremost person the school asked to take care of the detention hours.

"I'll have to take him by my classroom so he can retrieve his sketchbook and paints." Meaning, there was going to be at least one detour. Akainu gritted his teeth because he and Marco just didn't get along, but he nodded his permission. I walked past my teacher without giving him a second glance, stopping a few feet behind him as I waited for Akainu to finish with the damned isolation slip. In the meantime, I dropped my foul glare and unwelcoming stance and replaced them with a lusty scan over Marco's backside.

Marco was a lean but muscular man with a sleepy look about him, his sky blue eyes usually taking in more details than anyone else's. He had some stubble around his chin and pale golden hair in an odd hairstyle. It was cut to within a centimeter of its life on the sides and back but was kept longer on the top. It was kind of sexy. Oh, and he had a nice ass. An exceedingly nice ass. I liked his ass, very much so.

Marco took the red piece of paper proffered by Akainu, shutting the door as he turned to me, who put on a scowl with practiced ease. Choosing to ignore that, Marco nodded his head towards the hallway, silently gesturing for me to get moving. I knew that the man wanted an explanation as to why his little brother, who had been so adoring and respectful until just two years ago, had done a total 180 with his attitude. I glowered or glared and snorted or cussed at Marco whenever I saw him.

Hell, the blonde had confronted me about it many, many times, several of the talks ending with me lashing out at Marco and getting my ass thoroughly whooped. But, more often than not, this little miscreant would simply refuse to respond to any of the questions and/or demands, acting as if Marco didn't even exist. And sometimes my narcolepsy got me out of it.

But Marco never received an actual answer.

"Ace," came Marco's voice, his tone carrying a warning.

I was keeping at least a yardstick's distance between me and my teacher as I moved through the halls. When Marco called, I decided to ignore it, pursing my lips, and quickening my pace.

"Ace," it came again, only this time with a hint of agitation.

I didn't want Marco to tackle me under the presumption that I planned on making a run for it (Oh, no, I'd learned that lesson the first time I'd tried to flee.) so I took a deep breath, slowed down a little, and said, "What do you want, asshole?"

Probably didn't _have_ to add the 'asshole' part, but I felt it would be better to do so anyway. It's not like Marco could do anything about it. I was already in isolation and hitting me without me attacking first would get Marco fired. If he wanted to go to the trouble of confronting me off school grounds, then I would accept the challenge like a real man. And I knew, if that were the case, then I would likely get my ass handed to me on a silver platter.

We stopped in front of my locker and I put in my combination while Marco began to talk. "I'm your teacher. Don't call me asshole."

"I'll call you whatever I want to call you. And you can just get over it." I pulled out two heavy textbooks, one for math and the other for history class, then shoved them into my watermelon-like backpack. "Unless, of course, you want to throw a few punches and settle it that way?"

"I want to. But I'm not as reckless as you," Marco snapped, snatching the bag of chips I took out next. He ripped it open and ate a chip, munching through it easily.

"Oi, bastard, those are mine!" Marco held them just outside my reach, smirking as I flailed to get my snack returned to me. After a full minute of struggling, I stepped back and gave the blonde my meanest glare. "Give them back, fucktard."

"I'm confiscating them because I'm your teacher and I can," Marco said, a smug smile flitting across his lips. He ate another chip and made sure to let me hear the loud crunching sound. "Now, hurry and get the rest of your supplies."

Trying to keep my calm, I closed my eyes and dragged in a deep breath of air, holding it for a second or two before letting it whoosh out again. I did this one more time then opened my eyes, reached into my locker, and shoved a packet of pineapple flavored candies into my bag along with a few pencils and a calculator. All the while, Marco continued crunching on the chips, Mr. Loud 'n' Obvious over there.

I zipped up my backpack, slung it over my shoulder, and attempted to steal the rest of the chips back from Marco's hands. My attempt was easily dodged and I was forced to endure the amused chuckle afterward. As we moved further down the hall, heading for the art classroom, I didn't dare to look at Marco, my pink lips set in a pout.

When we passed by a trash bin, Marco crumpled up the recently emptied bag of chips and tossed it in with the rest of the trash. "I know I've already asked this a thousand times before, but…Why do you hate me?"

"You stole my chips." I gave Marco a supercilious look as the blonde fished in his pockets for his keys. The door swung open silently, revealing the round tables that acted as one half of the art room, the half where you did the art projects, and four rows of five desks on the other half, where Marco usually taught about different painting styles or the many types (like pottery and sketching). It was only the third Monday of the school year (and I was already heading to isolation) but earlier in the year Marco had mentioned practicing with cameras and digital art. I just couldn't wait for it.

The silence stretched on as I retrieved my art utensils and sketchbook. When I was finished and turned back, I noticed that Marco had shut the door and was staring at me with a patient, thoughtful expression, blocking the only route for escape.

"I hope you don't really expect me to answer that question seriously." I crossed my arms and gave my art teacher a skeptical look.

"I do," Marco replied.

"Oh, well, that's just too fucking bad. I've never spilled my guts to you before and I'll be damned if I do it now."

"Watch your language. We're at school," the blonde hissed irately. He flung the door opened and seized my arm, dragging me through the doorway and down the long halls towards the school's back entrance. "And just why are you so hell bent on not giving me an answer to the question?"

Choosing to ignore the question Marco was so hell bent on getting an answer to, I muttered, "What does it matter if we're at this fucking hell hole? It didn't made a fucking difference to me last year and I doubt a single fuck has changed since."

We stepped outside the school building, facing the Quarantine House on the other side of the parking lot. That's just what the students called it. If you messed up with your powers, you were quarantined in that place and forced to stay there until the school felt you were back under control. Or, if you tried to beat someone up with your powers on purpose, you stayed there until you served your sentence all the way through. I didn't do anything too bad. Just set some stupid fat ass's head on fire.

Running from the school building to the Quarantine House was an eight foot wide yellow strip painted onto the asphalt. On either side of the line, the word 'CAUTION' repeated itself in white every few feet. It was meant to keep others from getting too close to those that lost control of their powers.

"It matters to me, Ace." The man pushed me out onto the yellow paint gently, trying to act like the teacher he was. He then continued to prod me in the direction of the Quarantine House. Of course, I jerked away from his touch, glaring like some kind of pissed off demon.

"Well, you don't matter to me, so I'm gonna keep on cussing and you're gonna deal with it." I was lying. Marco was my big brother. He was my family. I really did care about Marco. But I wasn't going to tell the man that.

The art teacher suddenly grabbed my shoulder and roughly twisted me so that he could stare down at me suspiciously, gazing directly into my grey eyes. "Ace…You don't care about me?"

"Didn't I just say that?"

The hand on my shoulder tightened its grip, shaking me while blue eyes peered into my face. "Answer the question. You don't care about me? Yes or no?"

I clutched Marco's wrists, trying to tear the man off of me, but Marco was much stronger and held on easily. Almost as if I wasn't even struggling. "Why should I?"

"You're avoiding the question."

My eyes widened from that statement, then narrowed dangerously as my useless fighting came to a halt. "Because I don't know why you want me to say something that I clearly just said."

Our eyes stayed locked together as Marco thought, probably considering whether to lie to me or just be honest. "If you know what you're looking for, it's easy to tell whether you're lying or not, Ace. So, answer me."

I faltered for a moment, but I'd had practice at this. Two years of practice. I gave Marco a wide, conniving grin. "Humph," I grunted, then shook the blonde's hold off while I still had the man off guard. Then I resumed walking towards the Quarantine House, a smirk held to my mouth.

"Are you going to answer me or not?" Marco jogged to catch up, making sure to stay a little off to the side and a little behind.

"Not." I ran a hand through my tousled waves, watching as a bird glided through the air above.

Marco followed my eyes to the animal in the sky, but made sure to flick his gaze back to me every few seconds. Watching me for signs of an attempt at fleeing school grounds. "Why? Afraid I'll figure out you were lying?"

"Nope."

"Damn it, Ace! I want a fucking answer." Looked like Marco had snapped. I couldn't resist letting out a howl of laughter at that, turning to face the art teacher and halting his progress towards the Quarantine House.

"Now, look who's cussing! I go around saying fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck and you get onto me. But you can get away with it? Tsk, that's not very fair." Marco clenched his fist and made a threatening step closer, but I held my hands up as if to say 'I am not armed so there is no reason to attack me'. "I know you want an answer, Marco. That's why I'm _not _giving you one. Seriously, why would I give you what you want?"

"Oh, you're such a pain in the ass," Marco finally snarled.

"Now that we have that settled, how about we follow this 'yellow brick road' and see where it leads, hm?" I turned back to the Quarantine House.

Marco fell into step beside me, shaking his head. "You've followed this 'yellow brick road' many, many times before. You already know what's at the end."


	2. A Billion Dollars And A Gay Cabana Boy

I plopped down onto the couch, sighing loudly. Kidd dropped his school bag next to the potted plant at the entrance of the living room, which was where he always put his backpack, then sank down next to me. Kidd had blood red hair and these dark golden eyes that screamed menace. He was about an inch taller than me, his hair slightly shorter than my own dark head of hair and swept up out of his intimidating face. His shoulders were broader and more muscled than my own.

I leaned into the cushions, letting my head fall back onto the top of the sofa. "Damn. Today was awful." My lips quirked up at the corners and I closed my eyes as I recalled the day's events. "Well, not my worst. I got to set that fat bitch, Boa Marigold, on fire."

The red head chuckled in agreement. "The only thing I'm surprised by is how fast you got into isolation this year."

I hung out with a group of troublemakers. Kidd, Bonney, Perona, Law, and Hawkins. We would often get together to smoke some cigarettes and eat out at some restaurant. But sometimes we would get together just to plan mischief and start fights. We used to get caught doing shit all the time, but never too bad. Now, our antics had become worse, like breaking and entering or theft, but we hadn't been caught in a long time. We'd had a lot of practice over the last four years.

Our troublemaking slowly escalated from simply stealing candy bars from the store and setting fireworks off while everyone in the neighborhood was sleeping to breaking into houses and setting cars on fire and watching the resulting shit go down. Or graffiti. Or throwing rocks (with lame jokes attached) through windows. Or cracking eggs on windshields or spray painting side view mirrors. Or…Well, you get the idea.

We cause mayhem and the such all over Drum Island, from Drum Castle (although we avoided causing too much trouble there because I lived in the area) and Robelle to Bighorn and Cocoa Weed. Cocoa Weed was known for having all kinds of entertainment. Bars, restaurants, casinos, clubs, and a wide range of stores. It was best known for Stool's Restaurant, which had a bar upstairs. The bar was a place that me and my group liked to hang out at.

Drum Island was an island on the Grand Line. The Grand Line was a strip of sea that was supposedly cursed. On either side of the Grand Line was a Calm Belt, which made it harder for people outside of the Grand Line to get through. Surrounding the Calm Belts were the four Blues. North Blue, East Blue, South Blue, and West Blue. Splitting the Grand Line into two segments was the Red Line. The Grand Line and the Red Line effectively separated the four Blues. And confining all of these areas was a big (very, _very _big) ring of mountains that jutted up out of the sea, cutting the world of normal off from the world of abnormal. Or, considering that all of the normal people (like people of the U.S.A or Europe) were happy to be rid of the abnormal ones, maybe these huge impassable mountains were cutting the world of abnormal off from the world of normal.

Outside of that ring of mountains, not a single devil fruit would be found. However, the inside was a completely different story. Anyone born on the inside of the Norowa-Reta, which is what the normal people (hell, even the weirdoes born on the Grand Line) called the ring of mountains that encased the cursed sea, were thought of as a disease. The Norowa-Reta was a sort of quarantine all on its own. Oh, and, anyone with a devil fruit power was absolutely, no-questions-asked forbidden from leaving the Norowa-Reta. If they somehow managed to smuggle themselves out and the government got wind of it, they'd be labeled as fugitives and, if found, they were to be killed (only if they resisted arrest) or taken in to suffer the death penalty. Either way, they were going to end up dying. They could choose to go one way or the other, but dead was the end result.

"What do you want to do for the rest of the day?" Kidd asked, eyeing the large plasma screen TV across from him. It was currently off and I didn't feel like taking the time to turn it on.

"Well, we can go fight one of the gangs in Gyasta, make trouble, or go to Stool's. Your pick," I answered.

"I don't have my fake license with me so we'd have to stop by my house to get it." Both of us stared at the blank TV for a long silent minute. "Well, what do you want to do the most?"

I thought about this for a second. I wanted to make trouble, get into a fight, and go to a bar. All about the same, too. Scratching thoughtfully at my embarrassingly hairless chin, I muttered, "Let's do all of them."

"We haven't done that in a long time," Kidd pointed out. "This is you we're talking about, though, so I suppose I'm just going to have to roll with it. Like always. Do you want to invite any of the others?"

"Tell Law to grab his fake license and go over to Bighorn. We'll meet him there. Then we'll go to your house and get yours. After that, we'll cause some trouble in Robelle and then fight in Gyasta. Next, we'll go get drunk at Stool's." I pushed out of my seat and rubbed the back of my head. "I'll get my supplies."

"Don't forget your gloves."

* * *

Subsequently, we ended up at Stool's (they didn't look too closely at peoples' licenses) at around 1:00 in the morning, laughing our drunken asses off. Earlier on in the day, we had scribbled a hopeless joke on a scrap of paper and wrapped it around a rock, which we then threw through a window. We repeated this procedure all over Robelle before breaking into someone's house and raiding the fridge for a quick snack. From there, we went to Gyasta and battled with the Baroque Works gang.

Afterwards, we traveled over to Cocoa Weed, heading to the bar. Not one of us was hurt. Well, Law had a bruise on his jaw from when someone with a good arm got a decent hit on him. But, otherwise, we were unharmed and our mischief-making urges were satisfied.

"Did you see that woman's daughter when she read the joke?" Kidd cackled, Law and I following suit in our own hilarity.

"'Why did the can crusher quit its job?'" Law mimicked the aforementioned girl, even taking on the wide-eyed, confused expression.

I snorted and struggled not to laugh as I said, in a high-pitched mockery of the teenage female, "'Because it was soda pressing!'"

We all guffawed loudly, our heads and fists hitting the booth's table as we tried to control ourselves. Once our bout of laughter had died down to soft chuckles and little twitching smiles, Kidd muttered, "Where did you hear all of those, Law?"

"They were off the internet." Law took a long drink from his glass, grinning as he set it back on the tabletop gently. Law had black hair cropped close to his skull, a little on the scruffy side, and a short goatee beneath his idiosyncratic smirk. He was slender with long, elegant limbs and chocolate brown eyes, which were bordered with thick black eyeliner. He had a lethargic expression most days and his smiles were often small and bizarre. "Hey, what did the blonde say when she found out that she was pregnant?"

"Are you sure it's mine?" Me and Kidd answered in unison, another round of laughter bursting forth from the three of us. We often spent our drunken hours together, making jokes about anything and anyone, no matter how stupid or cliché the jokes actually were. The drunker we got, the more often we made gay jokes rather than blonde or fat jokes. If we got drunk enough, we would start talking about our homosexuality openly. And, unfortunately, rather loudly. It took thirty minutes for us to finally get to the gay jokes and we were quickly moving on.

"Okay, okay. Get this one," Kidd said, quieting me and Law from our most recent fit of merriment. "What's the motto of the Greek army?"

"What, what?" I asked eagerly, ready to have another chuckle. Law nodded beside me, both of us staring across the table at the red headed boy, who was struggling with stifling his own amusement. "Come on, Kidd."

"Never leave your buddy's behind!"

It took us a good minute or two to calm down again and I decided that it was my turn to tell a joke. "What do you call a gay midget?"

"Ooh, ooh! I know this one!" Squirming excitedly in his seat, Law gave a loud snort and downed a long gulp from his beer. And then he took a deep breath before exclaiming, "A low blow!"

"You know, being gay is pretty fucking fabulous." This came from Kidd, who's face was a dark pink and bore a goofy, little smile…Just like Law. And, if there was a mirror nearby, I probably would have added myself to the list.

"Yeah," I agreed readily. "Because gays are the only guys who can use the word 'fabulous' and get away with it."

"Oh, and you can hold a grudge for more than a decade over something little, like not taking out the trash," Law added, then paused and grinned. "I've got a good question for you guys. Out of all of our teachers, who has the sexiest ass?"

"Mr. Blue," I asserted. "Or Mr. Dracule. I'm indecisive."

"Mr. Blue," the red head stated. "Mr. Dracule's got a nice bum but Marco's bum is more addicting to stare at."

"Um, I, I thought you hated Mr. Blue." Law and Kidd exchanged doubtful glances as the skinny boy expressed his thoughts. They returned their gazes to me. My dark blush contrasted with my pale skin and golden freckles. "Well, what's the story?"

"Look, just because he has a nice ass doesn't change the fact that he _is _an ass. I can appreciate his good looks even though I can't be in the same room as him without wanting to split his skull in two." I chugged half of my beer and gave them a forced grin. I wasn't drunk enough to say what I really thought about Marco. "And, Kidd, don't stare at your teacher's ass. A quick peek is okay but outright staring is…"

"Ace has a point, Kidd," Law agreed. "I mean, even I pay more attention to what he's doing than what his butt is doing. And I'm a hardcore gay."

Kidd refused to meet our eyes, pursing his lips in embarrassment. "I don't always stare. Only when he wears those one pair of pants…Anyways, Ace, what would it take to get you to fuck ?"

I choked and coughed on my beer, pressing the heel of my hand into the middle of my chest as if that would help. Law beat on my back until my coughing had calmed down enough for me to speak. "What the fuck, Kidd!? There are so many things wrong with that question! _So many things!_"

"It's not all that wrong," the boy muttered in response.

"First off, Marco's like an older brother to me. Second, he's my teacher. Third, he's got to be at least twice my age. Fourth, we don't get along. I'm not even going to mention the multiple others," I growled back, running a frustrated hand through my hair. All of this had just reminded me why I couldn't have Marco and why I acted the way I did with the blonde. I didn't want Marco getting too close…because then I would confess and I knew we couldn't be together for so many reasons. All I had to do was keep distance between the two of us, emotionally and physically. I didn't want Pops and the rest of the family to find out that I'd had the hots for my older brother since I was, like, thirteen. "I can't believe you even asked me that."

"Well, considering all of that, what would it take to get you in bed with him?" This time, it was Law who asked, meaning both of them were incredibly curious about my relationship with our art teacher. Meaning they weren't going to leave the subject alone. Not without an answer.

I clutched at my head, my eyes squeezed shut as I groaned at full volume. "Fuck, um, I guess if I had to pick my prize for having sex with that asshole, it would have to be…" I paused, biting my lip as I thought. "A _billion _dollars and a _gay _cabana boy, one who would be so fucking hot that it would blow my mind and I would forget ever having touched Marco in a sexual way, much less having fucked the asshole. Hell, that might just be the price for a _kiss_."

"What makes you think you'd be fucking him?"

At that, I glowered evilly at Kidd. "There is no way in Hell I'd let him top me."

Law pouted from beside me, shaking his head. "If you've never bottomed, why do you hate it so much? You don't know what it's like. You might like it better."

"I'm a control freak. I fuck; they _get_ fucked. I _don't _get fucked." I gulped more booze before slamming my glass down. "I'm not going to be dominated by some asshole who thinks he's all that and a bag of fucking diamonds. Hell, I won't be dominated by _anyone_, period. We good? …Alright."

"Chips," Kidd corrected.

"Diamonds. Chips are cheap," I responded automatically.

But Kidd wasn't even paying attention. He was staring at the table off to the side, the single person there in hearing range. Law and I followed his gaze and all three of us gulped in nervousness. Then, snarling profanities at the camera pointed at us, I leapt up and grabbed for Apoo. But Apoo dodged and made a mad dash for the entrance to Stool's, unmanly giggles floating behind him.

It was Kidd and Law who rushed after him. I had to stay behind and pay for our visit. I merely tossed four bills onto the bar for the bartender, who looked at me and then at the 100 dollar bills and nodded his stunned ascent, meaning I could leave. I raced outside only to find Law and Kidd striding back down the street towards me. I swallowed, looking at their pissed off expressions and fearing the words they most undoubtedly had to share.

"He got away," Law snapped, stumbling over his wobbly legs and clutching at Kidd's arm, who in turn stumbled over his own pair of wobbly legs.

I wasn't as drunk as they were, being able to walk in a semi-straight path and somewhat keep my balance. I knew that I'd be panicking about the words being recorded later. For now, the alcohol was keeping me from really processing how bad things could get if Marco heard those compromising sentences about his ass and my state of gayness. I hadn't told anyone besides my immediate friend group. While Law and the red head tumbled into a pile of limbs on the sidewalk and tried to sort themselves out, I flicked my eyes around the surrounding area. There was no sign of a creep with piano keys for teeth, although their was a drunken moron throwing up in front of the popular cafe across the street. Disgusting.

"Let's go home...Maybe, tomorrow at school, we can catch Apoo and beat the shit out of him..." There was a moment of silence as I contemplated my words. It took me a long time to figure out what had been bothering me about my previous suggestion to the other boys. "Scratch that. I'll be in the Quarantine House and then I'll have detention. Oh, joy."

* * *

"Gah! Damn it! Don't slam the fucking door, asswipe!" I seized my head, my brows furrowing as a sharp pain stubbornly buried itself in my forehead, right above my eyes. "Ugh! Just…just be quiet, would you?"

"Oi, Ace, are you alright?" Marco was carrying one of the easels from the art room, along with a canvas and some utensils. "You know, you look like crap."

"Thanks." I laid my head down on the desk in my isolation room, the seastone shackle around my ankle jingling as I shifted my feet. "I feel like hammered ass. So, hurry up and get out."

"Well, I can't. We're doing a project in art class and I need you to start on it as soon as possible. You only have until the Wednesday of next week." Marco's hands, once emptied of the art materials, landed on my shoulders, massaging my tense muscles. He used to do this all the time, but I hardly ever let him close enough to do it anymore. Marco could only do it if my guard was completely down. This was probably how he could tell whether I was experiencing the pains of a hangover or not. "Get drunk last night?"

I closed my eyes, thinking that it would be okay to let Marco touch me for just a little while longer. I hummed in agreement to the question and let the teeth mark ridden pencil in my fingers roll across the top of my work surface. The math under my cheek was almost done and I figured I could spare a few minutes of break time.

"How many times have I told you that you're too young to be drinking? Hell, you need to stop smoking, too." Marco gave a tight squeeze at the base of my neck and I couldn't suppress the resulting shudder. There was a groan of approval from me and, of its own accord, my hand came up to swipe away the hair that covered the back of my neck, giving the blonde better access. Of course, Marco was thoroughly surprised. I had never responded with more than a glare and a shove, but now I was encouraging the contact. If Marco wasn't worried about my mental stability, I was, to say the least. "Oi, Ace, seriously. Are you…okay?"

As I let my teacher continue rubbing my muscles, I remembered why my group of friends, and even myself, didn't do all that much in one night. It was usually one activity a day, not three. My body was sore. My head felt like someone had rammed an ice pick into it. My thoughts were sluggish. And I had no energy because of how long I stayed up last night. All the driving to get between the many different areas we went to and the activities in those areas and even the stop we made in Bighorn so Law and Kidd could puke up their guts for an hour or so meant that me and my friends barely had thirty minutes of sleep before we had to get up again for school. I wanted this moment of comfort so bad right now that I couldn't bring myself to shove my older brother away. "Yeah…I'll be fine. I'm just regretting some shit that happened yesterday."

"Like what?"

"Just shit. I don't want to talk about it. Especially not with a stupid fucktard like you," I barked, remembering my reasons for keeping the blonde man at a fair distance and reaching back to fling Marco's hands off of me. This reassured the teacher that I was indeed fine. My normal bite was back in my retorts and I was being my usual cruel self. "What's the art project about?"

"You need a partner. And you have to paint a portrait of them. But, of course, you need to be creative and imagine them in a different time period." Marco chuckled as a deep scowl formed on my face. "Most of the kids are doing cavemen or futuristic ideas. The few others are doing what I assume were World War I scenes and ancient Rome. I want to see what you can come up with."

"Let me guess. You're my partner because I'm in isolation and have no other choice. Am I right?" My glare was replaced with a smug smirk.

"Yes."

"It's going to have to wait until later. I have to finish my math, write a history essay, write a speech over a devil fruit ability, and I have work in my Japanese class. If I get all of that done before the day is out, I'll work on your stupid painting." I picked up my pencil and turned my calculator on. "Get that junk out of here. It's taking up what little precious space I have in this hell hole."

Marco gave me a tired smile. He gathered the supplies he'd brought in and walked over to the door, propping it open with his foot. "Well, alright. But your school work is important, so, if you don't get to it while you're here, I'll stop by your house. Oh, and I won't be here for detention today. Thatch wants to meet up with me."

The door slammed shut behind the blonde man before I could even stutter out a protest. I leaned back in my chair and cursed. _My head hurts_, I thought.

* * *

"_What _are _you _doing _here_?" I snarled at Marco, emphasizing the most important sections of the sentence in hopes of getting my point across. My head still throbbed in the most hateful of ways and the lights in the house were far too bright for my liking. No one else seemed to notice that the intensest of the stars that once floated in outer space were currently shoved under my roof and burning my eyeballs to little smoldering bits. I chose to close my eyes to the sight and even went so far as to cover my face with my hands, sagging down on one end of my leather couch.

"I told you I was going to come over. I wasn't kidding, Ace." Marco was on the other end of the couch, his ankle propped on his knee and his hands resting on his raised calf. "You should listen to those who speak to you."

The living room's design was pretty simple. A cream colored sofa made from lavish, supple leather. A matching recliner and love seat, one on one side of the couch and the other on the other side. A plasma screen TV across the room. An oak coffee table where I propped my feet. A dark mocha colored rug with golden fringe borders. A few paintings of forests and streams on the walls. Potted ferns in the corners and framing the entrance. Large sliding glass doors to the right of the TV, letting in light and showing a porch with stairs attached to a trail that led through the gorgeous garden surrounding the house. And a Versailles style white marble fireplace on the left wall with two butterscotch colored seats in front of it.

_I wish my narcolepsy would kick in already_, I groaned internally, opening my eyes only to get a painful stab in the head for my efforts. I'd been lucky enough to get two naps out of the day, but, when suffering from a hangover, my narcolepsy wasn't as active. "Can't this wait until tomorrow? I'm tired as fuck and I seriously don't feel like dealing with your shit."

"It can wait thirty minutes. I have something I need to talk to you about anyway." The only thing that changed about Marco in that moment was barely noticeable. His rather lazy expression hardened and his blue, blue eyes darkened.

Before I could decide to be worried about Marco's new countenance or happy that I would get to take a short break, Curly Dadan popped her frizzy orange head around the entrance of the living room to glower at me. Her large frame and masculine face had led to me dubbing her as 'Dike'. She, along with Dogra and Magra, had been hired by Garp to raise Luffy and I in his long absences. I had nicknamed Dogra 'Shrimp' and Magra 'Chicken'. They didn't like me for it, but I could always threaten to tell Garp just how lazy the three of them really were.

"What is it, Dike?" I asked, slightly irritated. How much more was I supposed to put up with today?

"Luffy…Luffy," Dadan began, only to purse her lips and take a deep breath. She knew I was always in an irritable mood when Marco managed to wriggle his ass inside the house. "Luffy got into a fight. Chopper called to let you know that the boy is staying over at his house for the night because of his injuries."

I ran a hand through my hair in frustration. "Did he say how bad the injuries were? Or if I should be worried?"

"He said they were no worse than usual. He didn't say anything about whether you should be worried or not." Dadan let her gaze wander over to Marco. "Zoro and Usopp are over there, too, in case you were wondering."

"I wasn't," I muttered, getting up. "My day really can't get any worse at this point. Might as well down a few pills."

I continued to mutter about how bad my day was while I set out to find the downstairs' bathroom. Once located, I opened the cabinet to pull out a bottle of often used painkillers.

"That's not going to help," Marco informed me, leaning against the doorsill.

I gritted my teeth and shook two pills out of the bottle, choosing to pretend that the image of the sexy blonde's strong arms crossed over his chest wasn't doing things in my nether regions. Marco wore a plain dark blue t-shirt that stretched across his upper body and hugged his muscles temptingly, which was paired with a pair of jeans that clung to his incredible ass and slim hips perfectly. I hated having to control the urge to run my hands up under that shirt or claw at the front of those damned jeans so I could get to a dick I knew I couldn't have. I could already feel myself getting a hard-on downstairs and I didn't know if I was up to hiding it from Marco or not. Probably not. My brain had been mauled by alcohol and I was running on very little sleep. Along with that, I was remembering my stupid drunken slip-up from last night. A slip-up that was probably on Youtube by now.

A new wave of stress hit my mental barriers, the ones I liked to pretend could take anything anyone could dish out, and my mind buckled just as I was attempting to fish one more pill from the container in my hand, even if three painkillers was a bit of overkill. I felt absolutely dreadful at the moment, so it was understandable.

Then, without warning, the world went dark, the pills and open bottle slipped from my hands, and the medicine cascaded over the floor as my knees gave way and I collapsed.

* * *

Marco had just enough time to catch Ace's toppling form, the seventeen year old giving a slow shudder before the lean blonde could shift the teen's weight so that he wasn't slipping down the man's body. The boy's face was pressed into his collarbone and he was snoring softly, his long eyelashes resting on his pale, dotted cheeks. His full pink lips were parted to reveal a sliver of white teeth just beyond. His strong jaw was slack, something Marco didn't see often. Hell, Marco never saw the peaceful look on Ace's face these days. He always looked tense and irritable. Unless he was with friends. Then he would laugh and smile and talk…much like he used to with Marco. But Ace never looked truly happy and he only got more and more short-tempered with Marco around.

_Annoying little bastard won't even tell me what I did…I should just leave him here on the floor_, Marco thought angrily. But he didn't have the heart to do that. Ace may have been an ass to him, but he was sure Ace had a reason. Might not be a good one, but when did the boy ever have a good reason for anything?

Transferring the boy's body from leaning against his front to sleeping in his arms, Marco went to lay the boy out on the couch. If Ace woke up while he was in the middle of being relocated, he'd find himself being carried by the blonde, bridal style. Yeah, he'd be ultra pissed. So, with this in mind, Marco made the move from bathroom to sofa quick and smooth. As soon as he was done, his phone gave a loud ding, indicating that he had received a text. It went off again as he dug in his pocket for it.

He had practice with Ace's sleeping habits because of all the years spent with the boy. Ace could sleep through pretty much anything during the first five minutes of his narco-fits. He was thankful for that because then his phone, the volume on high, began to play music. Just Can't Wait To Be King from The Lion King, to be exact. Sometimes, he wondered if he should change that certain ring tone. _No, I can't do that. Thatch would kill me. He loves this song_, Marco told himself, answering the phone.

"What is it, Thatch?"

"Did you talk to him? What'd he say?" Thatch's voice filtered through the phone's speaker, clear enough to betray how aggravated he must have been.

"Not yet, I haven't. Look, I was about to ask him when he had a sleep spell. I'm still waiting for him to come out of it," Marco explained, sinking down into one of the chairs in the living room. "I'll text you if I can get some answers, okay? Until then, don't call me or text me. Got it?"

"But, Marc-" Thatch began, only to be cut off as Marco hung up.

The blonde shook his head, sighing. He had no idea how the others had convinced him into doing this. Everyone knew that he was Ace's least favorite person. Hell, just last Christmas, Pops had admitted that he couldn't get Ace to agree to sit down and talk with the blonde for a measly five minutes. And Pops could usually get Ace to do anything, as long as he was serious about what he wanted done.

_Shit, why did I have to agree to this? I don't want to be the one to ask him. We have a big enough rift in our relationship as is_, Marco internally groaned. Then his thoughts back tracked a few words and his shoulders sagged. _That's why they pressured me to do it. Everyone else's relationship with Ace is just fine, even if he has become a little distant over the last two years. I, on the other hand, have nothing to lose._

He stared over at Ace, who's chest was rising and falling slowly, indicating his even breathing patterns. His black tresses weren't as smooth and silky as they usually were at school, slightly mussed from the abuse they likely took throughout the day. The narcoleptic boy tended to be more susceptible to stress when he was hung over. There were dark circles under his eyes, suggesting very little sleep and his skin was pallid. Even if it was normally pale, it didn't have the grey tint and the washed out look.

Ace was wearing knee-length black cargo shorts and a dark grey shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The shirt had been hitched up a little during the relocation trip, revealing an eyelet-studded pumpkin orange belt, much like the color of Ace's sleek car, and a short second belt with a large red 'A' on the silver buckle, which was slung over his right hip with the free end strung through the back of his shorts. Ace had kicked off his boots at the front door but it didn't subtract from the boy's attractiveness. His feet were proportional to his body and, although Marco considered all feet ugly, he felt he could ignore Ace's because they weren't glaringly ugly.

Ace's frame hadn't filled out quite yet, his body still slimmer than Marco's and his shoulders not quite as broad as they would be in a year or two. Ace would likely be a well-proportioned and muscular man when he was in his twenties, but for now, he was the perfect image of an athletic teenager.

Marco stood, approaching Ace's slumbering form cautiously. He reached out, running a hand over the boy's forehead, down over his cheek, and further along his jaw. Ace really was an attractive boy. He'd always wondered why Ace didn't have any girlfriends, other than Bonney and Perona, but they weren't the type of girlfriends he was thinking of. He'd watched Ace for years, waiting for him to go out on a date with a girl, but he hadn't seen a single sign of interest from the boy, even if an eye-catching girl approached him with an invitation to dinner. No, Ace hadn't shown any interest at all.

Hell, Marco had once hired a woman to seduce Ace in hopes of getting him to create some sort of a love life. Of course, he'd been firm that there should be no sex until the boy was at least eighteen, preferably twenty. Had Marco been a little protective? He didn't think so. He had just been worried that Ace would be celibate for the rest of his life. Not a happy thought.

Oh, but now…Oh, no, he wasn't worried about Ace being celibate anymore. He highly doubted that the boy hadn't already had sex. Hell, he'd probably been involved in kinky sex, what with handcuffs and blindfolds and…Marco shivered, pulling his hand from Ace's body, where it had been drawing soft circles into the boy's collarbone.

Shaking his head in hopes of flinging those thoughts from his mind, Marco decided to snoop through the house until Ace woke up. He traveled around downstairs, peeking into rooms. He found a lounge with a bar stocked with shot glasses and sodas along with the best of alcoholic beverages, a workout center with a boxing area, a kitchen with the latest and greatest equipment, a dining room with a huge polished table that could seat twelve, what appeared to be an office, a smooth stone patio with an elegant metal patio cover out back with a fire pit in front of the two chairs that shared a beautiful view of the snowy garden. It was a garden which contained blown glass figurines in all different kinds of colors sticking up out of the fine white snow, short and tall evergreens sprouting up around the edge of the wide strip of property, the large colored glass balls that reminded him of giant marbles, stone slabs forming walkways, a little stone cliff and waterfall, and all kinds of stones lining the edge of the seven foot high fence…beautiful.

Ace had a really pretty house. And all the rooms were spacious and well-designed, each carrying paintings that Marco just couldn't identify, which irked him to no end. He'd have to ask Ace. The paintings all seemed to be by the same artist, although the styles for each picture seemed to change a little here and there. Each one was well-done and he could find only a few mistakes out of all of them. He liked these paintings.

Marco himself was a famous artist. He made a lot of money off of his artwork. It was why he could afford to live in the house across from Ace's. When Ace was a boy, he had taken an interest in Marco's paintings and even picked up a talent for art. However, when he thought about it, Ace would purposefully make mistakes on any artwork he had to do for school. Yeah, the blonde had noticed. The boy was downplaying his talent and always seemed a little nervous when people looked too closely at his works. He had once seen Ace come into the art classroom before school began and take out an art project that had been assigned for home. It was pottery and the vase was absolutely beautiful. That is until Ace took the red and blue paints in the art room and did something horrendous.

When Ace found out that Marco had been in the supply closet, watching him ruin something that had been beautiful, he'd become flustered and said, obviously lying, that he thought the paint might help bring out the shape. Ooh, Marco had come so close to killing the brat. Instead, he yelled and cussed at the narco-boy and told him to get the hell out of his classroom before he gave in to the urge to strangle him and not to come back until he could get it through his thick skull not to ruin a perfect piece of art, even if it was originally his own. Ace had skipped art for two weeks straight (probably would have been longer had it not been for Akainu finding out and forcing him to get his ass back in gear) by going to Thatch's class and hanging around in there.

Still, the boy went straight back to creating masterpieces and then downgrading them to mediocre…at best. The boy obviously had the potential and the desire to make things into inspirational pieces, but something was making him make himself seem less than an artist, which was exactly what the boy was.

Considering this, Marco thought it was a possibility that Ace had painted all of the pictures in the house.

Once done touring the downstairs areas, he peeked back into the living room to see Ace snoozing away on the couch. Dadan, dressed in black pants and a white button up, barely even looked over at him. He eyed the sleeping boy for a moment before flicking his gaze to the stairs just down the hall from him. He was sorely tempted…

"Go ahead and go up there," Dadan told him, spraying the sliding glass door with glass cleaner before wiping it away. "His room is the one with the biggest doors, at the end of the upstairs hallway. The code is 41936."

Marco nodded, grinning eagerly as he rushed to get upstairs. He paused at the top step, hesitating as he looked at the doors lining the hall. The first one was off to his left and wide open, revealing a large, messy room. It was likely Luffy's. All the way across the hall from Luffy's room was what looked to be Ace's room, judging by the size of the doors compared to the others. Marco felt his lips twitching back into a smile as he stared at the doors across from him. Then he began walking, peeking into the other rooms on his way to Ace's bedroom.

There was a library, a study, two guest bedrooms, a guest bathroom, and a washroom next to three smaller bedrooms with personals that looked to belong to Dadan, Magra, and Dogra. Ace's doors were the only ones with a keypad next to them and Marco punched in the numbers that Dadan had told him earlier. 4-1-9-3-6. The keypad beeped with each press of a button and the little red light flashed green before the doors made a soft sighing sound.

He opened the door and shut it quietly behind him. Then he took in what was Ace's room. There were more of those artistic paintings and even charcoal drawings, the most beautiful of the ones he'd seen so far. Everything seemed pretty expensive and of the best quality money could buy. He was certain there was even a tiger pelt under the desk.

He approached it, leaning a little to see past the large, comfy looking office chair. There was a desktop computer and a laptop but he could bet his ass he couldn't crack the password to either of them. There was a slip of paper taped to the corner of the desk and he looked at it closely. Written on it was:

A = 1 - B = 2 - C = 3 - D = 4 - E = 5 - F = 6 - G = 7 - H = 8 - I = 9 - J = 1 - K = 2 - L = 3 - M = 4 - N = 5 - O = 6 - P = 7 - Q = 8 - R = 9 - S = 1 - T = 2 - U = 3 - V = 4 - W = 5 - X = 6 - Y = 7 - Z = 8

He cocked an eyebrow at that, a tad confused, then shook his head and snooped through Ace's drawers. The first drawer held a ton of sketchbooks and art supplies. He opened one of the sketchbooks and found lots of drawings of buildings, his friends, his garden, his car, and even Marco's house according to the view from the window in Ace's room. Hell, the boy went so far as to put in the little details, like the sofa seen through the living room window or Marco standing out on the balcony on the right side of the house, looking down into his own garden.

He pulled out another sketchbook and leisurely flipped through it. This one held lots of drawings of friends and family. Luffy, Sabo, Garp, Dadan and her two followers, Pops, Thatch, several of the other family members… And Marco. Actually, there were four or five of Marco in a row. And the further he went in the sketchbook, the more he saw of himself. Until he hit a picture of Sabo's grave, surrounded by flowers that didn't grow in the snow, snow birds perched atop the large stone cross. After that, the pages were filled with different angles and different shadings of the grave marker. This must have been from when Ace was ten. Wow…the drawings were seven years old at this point. Tucked at the very back of the sketchbook was a letter signed to Ace from Sabo.

The S that was crossed out at the bottom reminded Marco of Ace's tattoo, the one on his left arm. Now, looking at it, he understood why Ace had the tattoo. He always told anyone who asked that it was a drunken mistake and he kept it as a reminder to limit his alcohol intake. Fucking bullshit. Thinking about tattoos made him think about the tattoo that most of the family members had. When Ace turned 18, he would be able to get one, too. From the same tattooist as all the other family members.

Marco felt uncomfortable as he closed the notebook, knowing he'd invaded Ace's privacy and found such…tender and emotional pictures. Some with smeared tear stains in the corners, almost rubbing out Ace's dates and times. He signed the date and the time of day but not his own name. Odd, but whatever.

He put everything back to the way it was when he first entered and returned to the living room, bearing a guilt-ridden conscience. The first thing he noticed was that Ace's eyes were open. Or, more accurately, they were half open and he was staring at his own chest with a fearful glint in his eyes. The next thing he noticed was that Ace's body was still completely relaxed. It was almost as if he was still asleep.

But his eyes were open…and the look inside them was something Marco wasn't used to seeing. Ace was scared.

"Dadan, call Chopper," Marco said, staring down at the ebony haired boy.

"Huh? Why? Did you hurt yourself?" Dadan turned around (She had been wiping fingerprints off of the ship in the bottle on top of the fireplace.) to look at Marco, only to find him in perfect health and watching her charge. "What is it?"

"I think something's wrong with Ace."


	3. Yeah, Let's Talk About My Sexuality

"Could you tell me what happened? What were you experiencing?" Chopper had a worn-out clipboard settled in his lap, his little hoof holding a pen as he stared expectantly at the seventeen year old boy. Chopper was barely three feet tall, a very small blue nosed reindeer that stood on his back hooves and wore children clothes. His antlers were symmetrical and his fluffy pink top hat fit around them nicely. "I want to be able to diagnose this properly, Ace."

"It was nothing. Seriously. I'm fine." I rubbed at the back of my head, but I was clearly lying. Marco was watching me closely. I was still a little shaken from what had happened earlier…

The blonde man narrowed his eyes and leaned back in his seat. "Liar."

I was sitting in the middle of the sofa, Chopper was sitting on my left side, and Marco was sitting on the right, his back turned to the armrest and his front to me. About two minutes before Chopper arrived, I had jolted into a sitting position, terrified. The art teacher couldn't find the words to describe to Chopper what he had seen and he had come so close to waving it off as his imagination. That is until I started lying out my ass about being okay and nothing having happened. But Chopper had asked if I was okay…I had to answer him. Just…Marco knew I was lying.

"Please," the reindeer pleaded, giving me his infamous, sparkly doe eyes…even though Chopper's a male reindeer.

I persevered under that gaze for about ten seconds, then my shoulders slumped and my expression went from hard and carefully controlled to exhausted and ghostly white. I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes and sighed loudly.

"I had a narcoleptic fit, like usual. Nothing felt different when I conked out. But when I woke up, I couldn't move my body. Other than opening my eyes, I was stuck. I figured it wasn't permanent and, therefore, not a big deal. I thought I'd wait it out." I ran my hand through my hair as I spoke. "Then I heard this noise. It sounded like a large dog was growling in my left ear. But only my left ear. That's when I really started trying to fight to move. But…it felt like something was holding me down, suffocating me. And there was a weird feeling in my body. Like static electricity. Tingly, ya know?"

I paused, scratching at my left ear and chewing my lip. Chopper encouraged me by patting my leg and murmuring, "Keep going."

"Anyways, after about a minute of that, my vision started going dark…well, around the edges. It was like looking through a tunnel and at the end was my living room. The darker it got, the louder the sound got, and I swear there was someone floating above me. Like, a tall man with black skin. He was too close to really see anything other than his face…His eyes were red. He didn't have any pupils. After that…I got really scared and woke up." I was back to my fidgeting, obviously uncertain what to do with myself.

"Is that all?" The little doctor stopped writing to look over at me questioningly.

"Yeah. Look, Chopper, it was probably just a bad dream. I've dealt with those kind of dreams before. I'll be fine."

"It's called sleep paralysis," the reindeer informed me.

"Huh?"

"What you went through was sleep paralysis. It's a transition state between being awake and being asleep characterized by complete muscle weakness. It can occur before you fall asleep or upon awakening. It's reportedly very frequent in narcoleptics." Chopper paused to let that sink in. "When it occurs upon falling asleep, the person remains aware while the body shuts down for REM sleep, and it is called hypnagogic or predormital sleep paralysis. When it occurs upon awakening, the person becomes aware before the REM cycle is complete, and it is called hypnopompic or postdormital. The paralysis can last from several seconds to several minutes, with rare cases being hours. Hypnagogic and hypnopompic hallucinations are symptoms commonly experienced during episodes of sleep paralysis."

"So…Ace was hallucinating?" Marco asked hesitantly, eyebrows drawn together.

"Yes. Now, Ace, you said you'd dealt with these before. Were you talking about times where you woke up and you couldn't move and you began hallucinating?" Chopper had become rather professional and I felt a small smile on my face as I nodded. "When was the last time you suffered from sleep paralysis?"

I sat there, my tongue stuck between my teeth, and my brows furrowed. "I would have to say…a little over a year ago."

"And how long did they persist?"

"Ten to eleven months."

Chopper peeked up at me for a long moment. "And…How often did the sleep paralysis occur?"

I was reluctant to answer, but Marco gave me a sharp jab to the side, which helped me make up my mind. "Five or six times a week."

An awkward silence fell over the living room while Chopper gaped at me. The reindeer quickly snapped his jaw shut. "That must have been a hard time for you."

"Yeah. I was afraid to go to sleep most nights."

"…Did it ever occur consecutively?" The little doctor waited as I chewed on my lip nervously. It was plain to see that I didn't like sharing this kind of stuff with others. Even people who just want to help me.

I scratched at my wrist absently, glancing down at the floor as I recalled less than pleasant memories. "Yeah. I usually went two days, skipped a day, went two more, and I either skipped two days or just one. But the, uh, hallucination bouts came in pairs more often than not."

"Sleep paralysis…uh, it usually has something that causes it." A hoof pressed into my forearm reassuringly. "Is the same thing happening now that happened then? If it is, I'm your friend and I'd be willing to help."

"Nah. Back then, me and Marco's relationship went to the fiery pits of Hell in a hand basket…but that can't happen again. Our relationship won't be coming back. Ever." I said it so emotionlessly, so _bluntly _that Marco flinched.

Chopper was apparently uncomfortable with this topic and quickly found something else to talk about. "Um, I'm going to name several things that can increase the likelihood of both paralysis and hallucinations. Just tell me which ones apply to you."

"Okay. I can do that." I fiddled with my fingers, my gaze dragging over to the art teacher. The blonde caught me staring and pursed his lips, meeting my grey eyes. I swiftly turned my stare back to the young doctor.

"Sleeping in a face upwards position?"

"Sometimes."

"Irregular sleeping schedule?"

"Severe narcolepsy makes that hard to say no to."

"Increased stress?"

"Yeppers."

"Sudden environmental and/or lifestyle changes?"

"Uh...I think I'll go with 'no' on that one…but maybe." I was thinking about something, letting my expression change to chagrin, but I didn't voice my thoughts. I'd let them think about that.

"A lucid dream that immediately precedes the episode?"

"No."

"Excessive consumption of alcohol coupled with lack of adequate sleep?"

"Yeah." This time it was Marco who answered. I decided not to comment on it because the blonde was right. I had taken in a little too much booze and not enough sleep the night before.

"Well, Ace, it's bound to happen if you abuse your body so much," Chopper scolded, ignoring the light blush that flowered on my cheeks. "Be more careful from now on, okay? Promise?"

"Um, sure. No problem. Hey, who did Luffy get into a fight with?"

"Oh, it was Krieg's gang. I only wish I had been there to help… Anyways, Sanji and Luffy were the only ones involved." The little doctor hesitated, scrunching up his tiny blue nose. "I wish Luffy would be more careful. All of them, actually."

"Kureha isn't helping?" I smiled when Chopper shook his head. "Well, I trust you to take care of my little brother. You're really good at what you do."

"I don't need your compliments, bastard!" Contrary to his words, the reindeer was squirming happily and smiling cheerfully.

"Chopper," Marco said when the misleading cussing and swaying ended, gesturing to me. "Would you mind? I need to talk with Ace before anything else happens. It's… kind of important."

The reindeer nodded, back to all seriousness, adjusted his fluffy pink top hat, and put away his medical stuff (which had turned out to be unnecessary). He nodded to me, smiled, and hopped off the sofa to make a mad dash for the front door. He was shrieking something along the lines of 'don't let Luffy hog all the ice cream, guys'…or something similar. When the front door slammed shut behind him, Marco flitted his gaze over to me, who was fidgeting and refusing to look him in the face.

"Why didn't you tell anyone you were gay?" I opened my mouth to speak but the blonde beat me to it. "And before you act like you don't know what I'm talking about, I'll have you know that Thatch was determined to show me a little video. About you, your friends. What you talk about when you're drunk. Need I say more?"

"Damn. News travels fast," I muttered, daring a glance over at the art teacher.

"Actually, Apoo showed Thatch the video earlier today at school. He knew about your connection with him. I guess the boy thought it was funny to spill your secret," Marco told me in explanation, twisting his lips. "It's not on Youtube. Thatch confiscated the camera and, you know, once something reaches him…The entire family knows about it."

I glowered down at the floor. "Both of them have big mouths." My gaze returned to the older male and a smug smirk flourished on my face. "Hm…Let me guess, the family volunteered you for questioning me because they knew you and I don't have a relationship to speak of anymore…right?"

"Yeah," he agreed wryly, rolling his eyes. "So…tell me about it."

"Tell you about what?"

"Ace, you're gay. You never told anyone. What's been going through your head?" The blonde shifted in his spot, eyeing my profile, waiting patiently.

"Yeah, let's talk about my sexuality," I commented with a humorless chuckle. I noticed that I was not helping my case and decided to just speak. My silver tongue would take me where I needed to be in this conversation. "I told my friends. And Luffy. Hell, the whole neighborhood knows. Just not you or the family."

There was a long stretch of silence, Marco scratching the back of his head as he pondered how to go about getting me to open up. "Why didn't you tell any of us? You can't really believe that we would think less of you for it. I mean, Izo is a cross dresser and Haruta is supposedly a tranny. Pops is an alcoholic. Thatch is like the news stand because he always has the latest news. Doma has an obsession with monkeys. Really, you don't stand out that much."

"It had nothing to do with you guys finding out about me being gay. Seriously."

"Then what, Ace? Just tell me. The whole family thinks you stopped caring about them. You don't visit. You only come by for necessary holidays, like Christmas and Pops' birthday. The majority of us didn't even see you throughout most of last year. And they've yet to see you any this year." Marco's hand reached out, fingers tightening around my wrist like a vise. "Don't let our fallout get in the way of your relationship with the family. That's not fair to them."

I was speechless, staring with wide, pale grey eyes and parted lips. I gave a hesitant nod, waiting as Marco's grip fell away and blazing blue eyes softened. That had probably been the first time the blonde had brought up that subject and, of course, his tone of voice hadn't exactly been friendly. I hadn't realized how passionate he could be. No, it was more like I had forgotten that burning passion. And I had the sneaking suspicion that I had forced myself to forget. My heart was beating faster and faster as I thought of what that passion could be applied to, other than family matters. I shook myself out of my shock enough to blink and mumble, "Y-You mentioned the art project?"

"Yeah…Let's get painting."

* * *

"Is there a reason you insisted I take my shirt off?" Marco grumbled, wearing a sullen look as he eyed me, who was standing in front of an easel. It was slightly turned so that I wouldn't have to stop every other minute to look around it but it was positioned in a way that meant Marco couldn't see what the painting was looking like. He shifted on the edge of my bed, glancing out the window behind me to see his own house.

"Yes. I thought that if I'm going to paint some guy, I at least want to get the feel of what I'm painting. I usually get my subjects naked before I start any artwork, but that's just not gonna fly, man," I answered around the paintbrush in my mouth. Then I gave Marco a scolding glare. "Quit moving. Leave your hair alone. Damn it, Marco. You're an artist. You should know better."

I was silently enjoying this and, well, internally moaning. Marco's hair, looking as soft and glossy as the modeled locks a lot of stylists compared to silk, was the color of white gold. His eyes were reminiscent of a brilliant, clear summer sky with thin streaks of Caribbean blue that almost blended right in. Sun-kissed skin, a sculpted yet lithe body, full lips set in a practiced half-scowl, his slender eyebrows drawn together, his eyelashes thick and dark and framing those bright, sultry azure eyes, long muscled legs clad in blue jeans faded at the knees, perfectly toned arms with the lightest covering of fine wheat gold hairs, barely noticeable even up close, and graceful hands with groomed nails. His body was simply addictive to stare at, stylish and graceful, well-built, tasteful. Oh, and the large tattoo which stretched over Marco's muscled chest didn't subtract from any of it.

"I'm uncomfortable with this, Ace. You're my little brother and my student. Do you know how bad this would look to anyone else?"

I squinted my eyes at Marco, as if I was trying to decide whether the blonde was being serious or not. In the end, I decided to smirk and murmur just loud enough for Marco to hear, "What a pussy."

"Fuck you, Ace." Just to accentuate his words, Marco flipped me off.

"Quit moving!" I stomped over to the art teacher, gripping his wrists and shoving them around so that the blonde's elbows rested on his knees and his hands dangled loosely between his legs. When Marco's fingers curled into fists, I grabbed them and squeezed...hard. It got the point across because the blonde let his fingers remain limp. "Now, stay like that!"

* * *

As the water for the shower warmed up, I stripped out of my clothes, freeing my irritatingly painful erection. I was thankful for my baggy shorts, knowing now that they could hide my hard-on almost perfectly. Almost. But Marco hadn't looked at my crotch during the painting session, which had undoubtedly saved me the trouble of coming up with an excuse for being aroused while staring at my half-naked older brother.

"Fuck. I get hot just thinking about him. How could I be stupid enough to ask him to take his shirt off?" I growled at myself, sticking a hand under the shower's spray. It was scalding, just the way I liked it. I stepped inside and slid the colored glass door shut behind me. Distorted campfire orange light dappled my skin as drops of water skated down my body. My cock twitched at the added warmth and I gave it an aggravated look. "Why are you ready and rearing for action when you know Marco's not gonna give us none? Man, do you want to make me look bad?"

I immediately rubbed at my mouth, scowling. _I could handle talking to myself, but talking to my penis is ten too many steps over that line between sanity and insanity. _

Still, I couldn't help but trail a hand down my stomach to grasp the base of my cock. I massaged my way up my shaft, leaning against the shower wall as I moved my hand to lightly pinch my tip, groaning before I slowly dragged my hand back down. I closed my eyes as I let my hand travel back up my erection, feeling the hot flesh twitch when I rubbed the foreskin right under the head. At this point, I was imagining Marco laid out naked on my bed, skin slick with sweat and hair messier than usual. It definitely was enough to spur me into quickening my pace. My hand fondled my head and as soon as I pressed my thumbnail against the slit, a long moan escaped my throat. "Mmmnn."

I tightened my grip around my arousal and pumped my length under the flow of the hot water. I attempted to keep my pace steady and smooth but the more I thought about Marco, the less control I seemed to have.

"Ah, fffuck! Hah, ah…mn." I bit down on my lower lip, working the pink flesh between my teeth as my fingers slid up and down my cock. I closed my eyes tighter and played with my balls a little, lightly pinching them before continuing to stroke myself. My free hand strayed up my body, tracing up my abdomen to my nipple. I twisted it, my back arching away from the shower wall as I groaned loudly. "Mmm!"

The hand around my member had become quick and it was driving me over the edge, but I knew that if I came this quick, I would get hard again in the middle of the night. I'd probably wake up soaked in sweat and with semen coating the inside of my thighs. I hated that. That's why I needed to prolong my masturbation. I forced myself to a slower pace, slower than when I first started, torturously so. I grit my teeth and tracked my fingertips over the side of my shaft, up to the head of my cock, and scraped my fingernails lightly all the way back down. My hips bucked and I grunted in the back of my throat, my teeth leaving my bottom lip. _Slow down. Ace, slow down._

I tried to slow down. I really did. But I just couldn't be bothered with it. I was pumping my length and moaning and groaning, my cheeks hot and flushed with lust or desire or whatever you wanted to call it. It was all the same to me. My other hand had left my nipple in favor of fondling my balls. Panting between my low moans, I gave myself one final jerk and thumbed my tip before a thick string of white shot between my body and the glass door opposite me, Marco's name rolling from my lips.

_Shit. Did it…Again._

I let the shower wall support me for a few more moments, trying to catch my breath now that I was done masturbating. Well, for the time being, anyways. I'd likely go at it again later tonight. I cleaned the cum off of the glass door, brushed my teeth while I was still in the shower, and washed my hair. I usually didn't take a shower before I went to bed, but rather after I woke up. This morning, however, I'd slept late and had to skip out. Sadly, I wasn't sure I wanted to go back to sleep. Sleep paralysis wasn't a fun thing. It made me feel…helpless. I hated that more than semen between my legs.

Just as I turned the shower water off, I heard my phone ring somewhere in my room and I was surprised I could hear it at all. I swiftly draped a towel around my waist and went to fetch my phone, which was on my dresser, right beside the bathroom entrance. It rang obnoxiously loud five times already so, worried that the caller would hang up, I quickly dried my fingers on my towel, answered the phone, and put it on speaker to keep from having to put it to my wet hair.

"Hello?"

"Ace?" Marco's voice filtered through the speakers and I winced. When it came to Marco, I was always full of contradictions. I wanted to hear from the blonde, but, at the same time, I didn't. I wanted to see him, but didn't. I wanted to tell my older brother about my feelings, but I didn't. All at once.

I grit my jaw and growled, "What do you want?"

"Did I leave my shirt over there?"

This made me pause, an odd hopeful spark lancing through me. I glanced around my bedroom and spotted Marco's shirt lying on the end of the bed, dark blue and contrasting with the bed sheets. I bit my lip and made a quick decision. I knew I shouldn't encourage my crush on Marco. But this was too good to pass up. "I don't see it. But if I come across it, I'll return it to you." As an afterthought, I muttered just loud enough to get through the phone, "Who the hell forgets to wear a shirt on their way home? It's freezing out."

"Ah, thanks. Bye." Then Marco hung up. Apparently, he was uncomfortable talking to me. Although, considering how I treated him, I couldn't blame him.

Before I could put the phone down, it rang again. This time I checked who it was that was calling. Law. I accepted the call.

"Hey," I said in greeting. My tone was much softer and calmer than when I was speaking to Marco. "What do you need?"

"Sex. I'm either having sex, mmm, with you or Kidd. I'd thought I'd ask you first, just in case, haa, you're in the mood." Law sounded strained, little erotic sounds separating his words, and the end of his sentence was punctuated by a loud gasp. "Give me an answer. Be quick!"

"Are you masturbating?" I asked, a grin finding its way to my face.

"Yes, I am. Now, ahh, yes or no, Ace?"

Grey eyes locked onto Marco's blue shirt and my grin disappeared, replaced by an anxious stare. "I'm not feeling up to it tonight. I'm exhausted, as should you be."

"You're no good! No good at all!" Law complained loudly, grunting afterwards. "I know Kidd, agh, won't turn me down."

"Goodnight, Law."

My phone hit the dresser top and I headed for the shirt on my bed. Just as I was burying my fingers into the surprisingly soft fabric, the phone went off again. I glared over my shoulder at it. I approached and glowered at the caller ID. Thatch. I gladly hit 'ignore,' put my phone on silent, and went back to the shirt. Snatching it up, I flopped down on the bed, not caring one bit that I was wet, and pressed my face into the garment with shameless joy. I pulled in a deep breath of Marco's scent. It was so distinct and brought on an intense bout of nostalgia. Salty ocean breeze, roasted walnuts, wet paint, and, oddly enough, fresh pineapple. It was so…different and, though it didn't sound too delightful, it made my body tingle with pleasure. I loved Marco's scent.

* * *

I had been right. I'd woken up in the middle of the night, barely two hours after I'd fallen asleep, and I'd had to jerk off for another thirty minutes. I'd kept Marco's shirt close by, using the man's scent to help push me over the edge into a _real _orgasm, one that would satisfy me until morning. Deciding not to clean my mess up immediately, I fell back to sleep. Not even fifteen minutes later, I had experienced sleep paralysis and a ghastly hallucination that sent me dashing to the kitchen in search of comfort food.

Chocolate cake, brownies, cookie dough, ice cream, fudge and cake icing…anything that I could get my hands on that would keep sleep at bay. Then I rushed back to my room to trash the place trying to find my cigarettes, which were where I always kept them, in the desk drawer. Even after I'd found those damn 'elusive' cigarettes, I felt better when I was destroying things and just tore the whole place to shreds. I also did other things, but I was trying to avoid thinking too hard. I was clad in silk boxers and Marco's shirt, staring at the TV with a haunted look about me as I chain smoked and was literally incapable of sitting still. Eating until I puked (a.k.a, _a lot_) and then going straight back to stuffing my face. I was attempting anything and everything to escape the feeling that was clamped around my mind like steel claws. All the lights in the living room were bright and I had moved the majority of the household lamps and candles into the living room with me. It was as luminous as the sun, very few shadows still existing there. I had turned the volume of the TV up as high as it could go, which was pretty loud, just to block out the sounds I kept remembering from the hallucination. Or hallucinations, as the case may be.

I'd dealt with this so much for nearly an entire year. I'd constantly felt _helpless _and _weak _and _alone_. Terror had plagued me every day and I'd rarely left the house other than to go to school. Even at school, I'd become jittery and spooked at every shadow that so much as twitched. I'd been suspicious of everyone and closed myself off from them by acting foul and irritable. The only person I'd trusted completely was Luffy. Not even Pops had been spared from my wariness. I'd cowered in my blankets at night, too frightened to close my eyes and fall asleep. Some days I would pass out from extreme exhaustion and wake up in a state of sleep paralysis. I'd been afraid every day for so, so long, only relaxing when the sleep paralysis didn't occur for a whole three and a half months. I'd been so relieved at the time. But I'd chalked it up to driving myself bat shit insane. Even now, knowing that it was just my mind messing with me, like Chopper said, I was going crazy with fear.

During the next panicked hour of my life, my gaze snagged on the fireplace. It was shadowed and my eyes supplied an image of irregular black, claw-tipped fingers dripping down out of the shadows and pulling a black, glistening distorted body, like the spine was too long. The creature had to hunch and the legs were bent the wrong way. It was oozing a dark liquid that melted through the floor and the eyes were glowing like hot coals. And then there were thousands of thin, shiny needle-like teeth in a bloody smile stretched far too wide. A long red tongue slipped between the sharp teeth and licked away the blood. I nearly screamed, but instead, clenched my jaw and continued to stare in dread. The flames on the candles burned ten times as bright, flaring up into balls of fire as large as my fist. The firewood in the fireplace burst into a red-orange blaze, ridding me of the horrid image. I shuddered and turned my eyes back to the TV.

That's when I noticed it. Someone was at the sliding glass door that lead out to my patio in the garden. I just gazed in silence. The person approached and an all too familiar outline became distinguishable. Marco.

I met those calming blue eyes. Those eyes, the ones that always appeared in my most erotic dreams, eased my terror because I knew Marco could protect me. Marco would protect me…We were family, right? My fear was still there but I wasn't drowning in it anymore. The blonde's fingers tapped on the glass, softly and politely requesting to be let inside. I almost went to the door, almost let him inside, but then my suspicion hit me like a wrecking ball. _The enemy's in disguise, Ace_, a voice whispered, dark and sibilant, which made me hate the sound of my own name. _And the door's unlocked. Don't you know to lock your doors before going to bed? Or are you so secure in your own abilities, foolish child? He's going to slaughter you. Just watch._

Fear pooled in my mind, overflowing and flooding all of my thoughts. I lost it. For just a second, I lost my control over my devil fruit power and everything…flickered and exploded. Light bulbs shattered, lamps were reduced to scorched scraps of metal, the walls were alit with eagerly licking flames that murdered the TV into silence, the chairs and sofa were cocooned in an inferno that twisted maliciously, candles turned to useless hot wax puddles in mere seconds, and the fireplace roared with so much life before everything…before everything was enveloped in darkness. And I screamed. Long and loud and terrified.

_You're not _going _crazy, Ace. You already _are _crazy._


	4. Going, Going, Gone

Marco had flung the door open the moment Ace's fire had engulfed everything. As he entered the room however, the fires puffed out of existence and the room was thrown into pitch black darkness. A deafening scream rent the air and he jolted, quickly looking for the owner of the amazingly well-built vocals. His keen, hawk-like eyes, easily picked Ace out of the shadows. He approached with caution, skimming his gaze over the boy quickly in search of wounds. Nothing popped out at him except for the fact that Ace was curled up on the burnt sofa, knees to his chest and with his hands clutching his head. He was panting loudly, fingers tangled in his hair, and tears tracking down his face. The blonde had never wanted to hold anyone as much as he had wanted to hold Ace right then.

The art teacher reached out and put a hand on the boy's shoulder. Ace flinched from the sudden contact, a strangled whine emanating from his throat. This nearly shattered the blonde's heart. What had happened to his little brother? Tightening his grip, Marco urged Ace to stand on his own two feet. It took lots of coaxing to get the tense boy to finally listen. And, no matter what Marco said, Ace apparently didn't hear a word of it. He stared unendingly at the ground, his lips silently shaping unknown words, and his whole body was overcome by trembles.

He met with all of his neighbors outside, a large gathering woken by either Ace's loud, panicked screaming or the others who had slept through the noise and had later been woken by the ones who had actually heard the screaming. Immediately upon his exit, concerned questions bombarded him and he chose silence, shaking his head to signify he knew very little, if anything. Chopper was there to examine Ace, although he took the narcoleptic a little ways down the street to do so under the light of a tall lamppost. Kureha kept an eye on Ace, too, which meant Ace was showing a lot of signs and actually needed the extra supervision. He didn't like what that entailed.

His little brother was still shaking, his unseeing eyes turned to the ground, and his hair was damp and tangled, which wasn't seen often. He smelled strongly of cigarette smoke and sweat, both unpleasant scents all on their own. Together, it was just repulsive. He hated seeing Ace so unresponsive and obviously not all there. Ace was perfectly fine when he left after the painting session, sounded perfectly fine (if a little angry, but when wasn't the boy angry with him) when he called about his shirt, and then…well, this was starting to terrify him. He'd merely come over to tell Ace that all his lights were a little too bright and the TV was way too loud for the middle of the morning, when normal people try to savor their precious sleep. He would never forget how much like a scared child his little brother had looked.

Everyone chatted with Marco, trying to ooze all the details from him that they could, and he simply gave them his side of the story. Then he turned to Chopper as the reindeer returned, appearing grim, and everyone's worried gazes went to Ace behind him.

"Doctorine," Chopper said softly, pleading with his eyes as he gestured a hoof to the teenage boy following him blindly. The old hag snagged Ace's arm and dragged him away, parking him on the street side as she snarled quietly down at him in an attempt to get him to respond. Chopper observed this for a few moments before flicking his eyes back to the others around him.

"Well?" Marco asked impatiently, not trying to be rude but definitely too worried to be anything else.

"He didn't say much. Nothing real important. I got the impression that it was because of the sleep paralysis," Chopper replied, not one bit offended by Marco's tone. The little reindeer understood perfectly. "I think…I think he might have been…well, traumatized by his previous experiences with it. He seems to react to it the most when the sun's down. He also keeps saying 'going, going, gone'…which makes me uncomfortable, to say the least."

"Previous experiences?" Franky asked in mild surprise, but Chopper merely nodded in answer, refusing to go into any further detail on the matter.

"Is…Is Ace crazy?" Nami hesitantly questioned from beside Nojiko.

There was a pause in the conversation. "I don't want to diagnose him as such. He does seem to be…off his rocker, for lack of a better term, but if Doctorine says he's crazy, then he'll have to…get some form of professional help."

"You don't want to diagnose him? Not that you can't diagnose him?" Sanji was chewing the cigarette in his lips furiously, glaring. "Chopper, is Ace going to be okay?"

"I don't know. Maybe." Everyone, save Luffy, watched him, begging with their eyes for answers. "Look, this isn't something that just happens overnight. Whatever is making him go through the sleep paralysis, he's been dealing with it for a while. That or he was mentally damaged by the pervious sleep paralysis attacks he'd suffered. No one just goes crazy without reason. He might have been doing the same stuff when he was suffering before. So, I hate to have to ask, but, Luffy, what was Ace like-"

"Chopper," Luffy interrupted, his eyes trained on Ace from where he stood. He was completely serious right now. No one said anything else. When Luffy finally looked to the rest of them, his gaze said he wasn't going to talk about it. He stood, slapped his hat onto his head, and returned to Chopper's house. Chopper didn't seem to mind that it was _his _house the impish boy was retreating to.

"Ace used to do stuff like this all the time," came a voice from Ace's front steps.

Everyone turned to face Dadan and her two followers. They were in their pajamas and yawning almost simultaneously. Dadan wore a set of fluffy pink rabbit slippers and a scowl that said she didn't appreciate being woken up in the middle of the night. Or morning, as it happened to be.

"Did the boy's screaming wake you up, too? Hm, and I was under the impression that you three slept like rocks," Robin stated, not so much as an insult but as a friendly, inquisitive observation.

"The smell of smoke woke us up," Magra muttered.

Dadan snorted and waved her hand in front of her face, her nose crinkling up with distaste before she began explaining things. "Ace was real bad with sleep a long while back. It started out slow. Nothing I thought was worth worrying about too much. He would forego his sleep in favor of wandering the house all night. He'd just wander and sometimes he'd stand at the top of the stairs for hours and hours on end. Wouldn't notice you even if you stood right in front of him. Then he got to where he was raiding the kitchen, eating himself sick, puking everything up, then eating some more. At this point, I was concerned, but the boy threatened to have me replaced if I so much as uttered a word about it. So, I kept my mouth shut but my eye on him.

"It got worse. He'd sit in the living room with the TV so loud, it'd wake the dead. Because of this, when we renovated the house, he soundproofed the bedrooms, all but his. He was also paranoid. He didn't trust anyone but Luffy at the time. Not even his precious Pops or Thatch. He'd mumble about assassinations and stuff, which crept me the fuck out. He'd carry a knife whenever he was up at night and he'd just stare at the TV. When you turned it off, he didn't blink or move or anything. And he put all the candles and lamps in the same room. If you tried to turn the lights out, he'd attack you. I have a scar on my back to prove it. And, on occasion, he'd paint things that looked like they jumped right out of Hell and were ready to crawl off of the paper and tear you to bloody shreds."

Dadan quieted for a moment, then continued. "It was better during the day. He didn't just zone out or try to kill you for turning off the lights. He still jumped at every shadow and he was paranoid of everyone…And he painted more of those things during the day than at night. We still have them…if you want to see."

"That's a good idea," Chopper murmured. "Then I could get an idea as to what is scaring him. That might make it easier for us to help him."

The large lady (Was that _really_ a woman?) nodded and gestured for them to follow her. She turned back to the house and continued on inside, the group of people just barely hesitating as they trailed after her, and Marco noticed that the hallway lights were on. This gave everyone a good glimpse of the living room as they passed by it, the charred and scorched and seared room emitting a smell of smoke unlike the scent that had been clinging to Ace as if he'd been chain smoking. Marco spotted the ash tray filled with burned out buds, two empty packs of cigs, and lots of food containers that had either been blackened by flame or completely untouched littering the burned carpet surrounding the ruined sofa. Ice cream tubs, cookie dough packets, jars empty of the fudge they once held, soda cans, a syrup bottle, crumpled bags of chips, little Debbie snack wrappers, etc.

Chopper stopped to examine the very unhealthy food stuff and the overflowing ash tray, as did Sanji. Everyone noticed what they were staring at and everyone worried for Ace's health.

"He's slowly killing his body like this," Chopper announced to no one in particular. He fought off a bout of tears and his hoofs clacked on the wooden flooring of the hallway as he turned and continued to draw closer to Dadan, who had approached the stairs. Right next to the bottom of the stairs was the entrance to the dining room, on the other side was an open door with bright light spilling out that showed a bathroom. Splotches of vomit (Did the boy even digest it before throwing up? But, anyways…Ew…) coated the floor around the porcelain throne and a large puddle of it was just a few feet from what had probably been the destination and there was water up to the rim of the sink with Ace's cell phone drowned beneath the surface (Why the hell was there a cell phone in the fucking sink in the first place?).

They continued upstairs without a sound, save for their footsteps and gloomy sighs. Heading straight for Ace's room, Dadan punched in the code and opened the door. Every single one of them stopped dead in their tracks. _The fuck am I looking at?_

Marco slowly roved his eyes over the bedroom, taking it in. All of the furniture had been broken into halves or quarters or tenths, all depending on the original size, including the desk and computers and dresser. Ace's sketchbooks, clothes, and other various items of importance had been pulled out of their respective spots and neatly stacked in a safe corner of the room, unharmed and in pristine condition. Gay porn magazine pages were torn out of the magazines themselves, while the mirror and paintings that had once hung on his walls were completely trashed (Which really, _really_ pissed Marco off…didn't Ace have some respect for art? Just a little?), but what really got everyone off balance was the way everything was arranged.

All of the broken furniture, the shredded sheets and gutted pillows and their stuffing, all of it was arranged in a simple circle around the bed, which was adorned with only one thing. A painting. It wasn't a finished painting as far as everyone could tell but no one could make out anything specific from the doorway. In place of the paintings that had been on the walls were different ones. He had a feeling these were the paintings Dadan had wanted them to see.

In every picture was a grey background and a black creature lurking somewhere on the canvas, smiling an unbelievably wide smile of thin, bloodied teeth, a red tongue that was long and had a sharp angled tip, and bright scarlet eyes that almost looked to be glowing. There was so much detail, down to the bunched muscles of the twisted form that made Marco feel a little sick to the shadows created by the monster's ribs (There were way too many ribs…twice as many as a human would have…the thing's torso was elongated and it looked so wrong…) that stuck out of its skinny frame. Its fingers had two too many knuckles, making them look long and thin and they were tipped with ugly claws. It had two knees and three toes and was the ugliest thing he'd ever laid eyes on, but there was so much detail. He was proud of Ace for that…but worried because of what had been painted…besides the creature.

Marco was in almost every single one of the pictures and the ones he wasn't in were all close ups of the thing the art teacher labeled as the-ugliest-creature-the-world-has-ever-seen. The blonde's eyes were painted oddly, one a very pretty shade of sky blue and one the same bright red as the creature's, blood covered his mouth and chin and throat, and he was constantly smiling, as if he didn't even notice he was dripping bodily fluids. In some pictures, he could see his fist clenched around something reddish purple shot through with dark blue veins…veins…It was a heart. He was holding a bloody fucking heart in the paintings. In one gruesome picture, there was even a boy standing beside him, his face red with blood and a gaping hole where his heart should be. It was Ace.

They spread out in the spacious room, looking at the narco's things with trepidation. The ruined furniture, the paintings, the odd behavior…And he was certain no one in the family knew. He pulled his phone from his sweat pants pocket and called Thatch first. Of course, Thatch did not like being woken up at such an ungodly hour.

"What the fuck, Marco?! We have to teach in the damned hours of the morning! Did you forget!? Damn it! I need the rest and you know damn well it's hard for me to get back to sleep once I'm woken up. Damn it! What was so damn important?!" Thatch screeched through the speaker. The man was probably seething on the other end.

"Come to Ace's house," Marco answered shortly, refusing to go into any further detail. "Get your camera. We're going to need to show this to the family."

"Marco? Wait, what? Why? What's going on?"

The blonde hung up on him almost immediately after those words. He wouldn't say any more on this subject. As he waited for Thatch to get his lazy ass over there, he forced himself to swallow his nausea and look around again. The paintings disturbed him too much to keep his eyes on for long so he peered at other things. The unfinished painting on the bed was…of him. Or he thought it was of him. Not enough detail in it as of yet to say. He wandered around the room and opened the closet door to peek inside. Everything was nice and neat and untouched. He almost wanted to crawl in there and never come out. Or at least not until the room was returned to normal. He grit his teeth and subjected himself to more horror, firmly shutting the closet door. He moved to the bathroom door. The light was on and the bright white glow slipped out from under the door, which meant Ace had been in there at some point recently. He opened it and nearly pissed himself.

"_Holy shit!_" Marco shouted, stumbling backwards.

Everyone else in the room rushed to see what was wrong. Oh, how they must have regretted that. Chopper and Usopp both gave unmanly squeals and tried to hide behind Zoro across the room, Nami not far behind and screaming like a banshee about 'murder, murder'. Dadan acted as if it wasn't a big deal and he had the feeling that she'd seen this before. And expected it. Dogra and Magra weren't in the room with them…actually, he had no idea where they had gone. Brooke had cowered in the corner on the other side of the room, his bones clacking together as he shook. Franky was over there with him, trying to give some comfort and reassurance, all the while scared shitless himself. Robin was a tad surprised, but returned to normal in moments. Nojiko and Yasopp were extremely freaked out, as well as the rest of them.

The bathroom was wrecked. The mirrors that lined the left side were smashed, the shower door was shattered and there were toiletries scattered about the place, such as razors and deodorant, along with pills and toothpaste and shampoo and conditioner that oozed from the containers because most of them had been melted into halves. But none of this really mattered.

It was the word-_no_, the _name_ that had been repeatedly, meticulously inscribed with red paint on every inch of the bathroom from the top of the walls to the tiles of the floor to the shower head in the shower. _Marco, Marco, Marco, Marco…_

The blonde felt his heart constrict. When he'd first opened the bathroom, he'd thought it had been drenched in blood. Looking closer, he could see the container of paint in the sink, filled with water and a rag with red fingerprints swiped through it. No blood. That was a relief. But what brought Ace to do something like this? Why was it that the blonde seemed to have a lot to do with this, what with being in the paintings and his name all over the bathroom?

"Well, at least we know what he's terrorizing himself with," came Zeff's voice and all the people nodded slowly.

"It has something to do with Marco, that much is obvious," Robin stated, frowning. "I knew that you two had somewhat of a rough relationship, but just how bad is it?"

Chopper peeked around Zoro's leg and stared at the older woman with his pitiful doe eyes. "You don't think…Ace wants to _murder_ Marco, do you?"

"Oh, no, _please_ don't let it be _that_ bad," Marco groaned, covering his ears. "I don't want to hear it. He's my little brother. That would just kill me."

"That might be what he wants," Robin added, her tone was very calm but it was almost as if she was mocking him. He sometimes (more often than not) hated how she did that. Made things seem worse than they actually were. No, there was no way he was going to believe that Ace wanted to hurt him. Not that badly.

His phone sounded in his pocket and he dug it out. Thatch had sent him a text. _'I'm here. Where are you?'_

Marco shoved his phone back in his pants, run-walked to get out of that damn room, and flew down the stairs, taking them two at a time before bursting out the front door. Sure enough, Thatch was parked in front of the house, standing on the sidewalk with his gaze focused on Ace and Kureha down the street. Kureha was…being gentle. She looked as if she was nursing a frightened child back to health rather than talking to a seventeen year old boy who's little brother annoyed the shit out of her. Just how bad was Ace's current condition? He shuddered and grabbed Thatch's arm, dragging the stunned man from the sidewalk to the house.

Thatch's caramel brown hair was loose and mussed from sleep, looking better than it did when in its normal pompadour hairstyle. His eyes were a pale green, a stitched scar in a half circle near the left one. He had a black goatee around his masculine chin and wore a jacket (like a smart guy) with green sweatpants similar to Marco's light grey ones. Thatch was a tall man with broad shoulders and, more often than not, a confident smirk and affable shine to his eyes.

"Come on. You have the camera?"

"Yeah," Thatch mumbled, eyeing the blonde as he held up an expensive camera he'd gotten for his birthday. "What happened that's got you so damn scared? You look like you've seen a ghost…and you look a little green around the gills. You okay? Are you gonna puke on me or something?"

"No, or at least I hope not," Marco muttered in response. Thatch immediately put some distance between them. "Damn it, Thatch. This is serious."

Soon enough, the man was staring with wide eyes at the living room. "What happened in here? Did…Ace do this?"

"Yeah. He lost it. I don't know what's really wrong with him…but I've got a few… ideas about it," Marco grumbled, rubbing his golden hair into a frazzled mess. He was too frustrated to care about how he looked. "It gets worse so save some room on that camera of yours."

"It gets worse?" When Thatch didn't get an answer, he turned back to the living room, snapping some pictures of the most important details…Like the overflowing ash tray, the food stuff, the more severe burns. And then he was led to the downstairs bathroom, where he asked Marco some questions. While he was taking pictures, Marco explained to him what was going on. Thatch listened, asked several questions, and once he got the whole story (starting from the sleep paralysis to the gay talk to the painting to…this), he began to get really worried.

"Thatch…what I told you…how you're feeling right now…That's nothing compared to what you're about to go through," Marco murmured as he led his brother up the stairs. The man looked at the solemn blonde with concerned eyes. Zoro and Zeff were coming down the stairs, shortly followed by everyone else. Marco waited until they had passed before he continued. "I told you…it gets worse."

They stopped in front of Ace's door, which was ajar, and Marco nudged it the rest of the way open with his foot, stepping aside for Thatch to get a good view of the interior of Ace's bedroom. The poor man took one look and opened his mouth to let out the first words that came to mind, "Holy shitting whoremonger!"

And then Thatch went to taking pictures…right until he got to the bathroom. A girlish squeak and a shaking finger was the first thing Thatch did. His body shook like a leaf in a tornado and he stuttered incoherently. Then he turned away, closed his eyes, took deep breaths, and calmed down. "It's all in my imagination. Just my imagination. This is all because I watched Spongebob before going to bed." And then he continued to talk to himself and Marco noticed Thatch was actually getting his mind off of more stressing matters. Though his…um, 'conversation'…was ridiculous. "Even if I love to sing along with Goofy Goober Rock, that doesn't mean I should record the episode. I'm a full grown man, for fuck's sake."

"Yes. Yes, you are," Marco intoned from beside him, nodding his head and pursing his lips. "An extremely _weird _full grown man."

"Shut up, Marco," Thatch growled in reply, pointing at the bathroom. "What the hell is this? Why does everything that's wrong with Ace seem to revolve around you!? No, no. What did you do to make him hate you so much?"

The blonde visibly flinched from those words. "Thatch," Marco pleaded, clenching his hands near his sides as he furrowed his brows. "Don't. Just don't. Please."

"Ah, shit," the other man mumbled, immediately regretting his choice of words. "Um, I shouldn't have said that. Sorry."

Marco gave him a strained smile and relaxed his hands. He didn't want Ace to hate him. They were family. There was already a certain animosity between them, not that he knew how it got there in the first place. He didn't want to find out that it was worse than what he originally perceived it as. Silence stretched as Marco pondered his relationship with Ace, Thatch quietly taking various pictures.

Marco went over to the window, peering out at his house across the street, then down at the magnificent garden below. He turned around to glower at the room in general. He felt like he needed to help Ace but didn't know how. "What's on the bed, Thatch?"

The aforementioned man paused in taking photos, staring blankly at the blonde. "Well, it appears to be a painting. It's not finished but it seems to be the most mellowed out one he has in this room. That's still in one piece, I mean."

Marco frowned, approaching the mess of broken furniture, and moving some of it aside so he could get a closer look at the bed. The painting didn't have a frame and was completely absent of paint. He could see a thin, almost nonexistent outline of a human body marked in pencil. The head didn't have any definition to it, but the upper body itself had a lot to go for it. The muscles in the arms; the muscles of the chest; the detail in the hands. The lower body didn't have many details, only the general outline. But Marco recognized the pose and the chest tattoo. It was the same pose as the one he'd been forced into and the same tattoo that was his permanent accessory. Except he wasn't sitting on a bed, but some sort of…chair? It was wide and the back of it barely came up to his shoulders. There were lines in the background that could have been anything, considering they were just a mess of lines that crossed and stood straight and went under each other and there were a bunch more at the top and the bottom. Not a lot of detail in it. What the hell was Ace doing those two hours he was here?

He looked over to see Thatch standing in front of the doorway, watching him with an amused expression. "What?"

"Nothing. I'll show these to Pops when he wakes up later today and circulate things from there. Agreed?" He gave the blonde a reassuring smile that might have been more to assure himself than Marco. "I'm sure Ace will be fine."

"Yeah," Marco muttered half-heartedly. He glanced back at the paintings on the walls and sighed. "What do we do with Ace? In his current state…he's not likely to care what happens. I think his brain is fried for tonight."

"Well, you talk to Franky and I'll talk to Ace. I want to see if I can get him to explain things to me." This was actually a good idea, considering Ace liked Thatch a lot. But if what Dadan said was true, then Ace wasn't going to be very trusting. "Ask Franky to look at the damage to the living room and anything else. Also, see if you can convince him to place cameras in the house so, if Ace has another meltdown, we can see what exactly was going on when it was going on."

"Okay," Marco mumbled. "But what do we do about this mess?"

"Leave it," Dadan said from the doorway. "He's not going to want to stay in this house anymore tonight. He'll likely call Kidd or Law and ask to stay with one of them. Staying here will just make him panic."

"Well, his phone is drowned in the bathroom downstairs, so unless he has the numbers memorized…" Thatch trailed off. Both listeners knew what he had been about to say.

The orange head of hair shook and the woman (Man, perhaps?) gave a soft smile. "He has them memorized. You have to remember that he's been through this before. Too many times to count, in fact."

There was silence as they considered this. It meant that Ace might have somewhere to go until this mess was cleaned up. But…how were they going to get everything back to normal? The furniture was trashed and the paintings were ruined and…there was no way in Hell that Marco was going to leave those other paintings up. He might just burn them. He hated them that much.

Dadan rolled her eyes. "I'll take care of this stuff. I've done this before and I know right where all of his stuff belongs. I'll buy him new furniture and I'll put his clothing and sketchbooks and other things up. Like I said, I've done this before. Just keep him out of the house for two or three days. Me and the boys will work with this shit. And hopefully get rid of that awful smell."

"Did…this happen often?" Thatch asked hesitantly.

He received a sharp nod and was told to get his ass out of the house. Magra and Dogra entered the room at about the same time the two men were leaving. The two hired hands were wearing rubber gloves, held cleaning items, durable trash bags and had sad eyes. Magra, with a mop and bucket, went to the bathroom. Dogra began packing the broken bits and pieces into his trash bags.

As Marco and Thatch headed down the stairs, they both pondered what to do about Ace. At the front door, they parted ways. One heading to Franky's and the other going towards the narcoleptic boy.

Ace said nothing as Thatch approached, not that the man had expected him to. "Hey, Ace. Can we talk?"

The boy didn't even flick his eyes up. Kureha just shook her head and took Thatch's elbow, leading him back a few steps. "He's barely said anything in the last forty five minutes. If you really want to try to talk to him, go ahead. But I'm going to warn you that he hasn't responded to anyone that's tried. Not Chopper, not me, and not any of the others who tried to check on him before sneaking over to my house to get a few explanations out of my boy. If he says something, try to keep him talking for as long as possible." The old woman squeezed his arm roughly. "And if he looks like he's getting angry or uncomfortable with what you're saying, shut your trap and wait for him to calm down. Are we clear?"

"Crystal," Thatch affirmed, turning back to Ace after the hag walked away. Ace was standing on the side of the street, gazing at his feet and moving his lips and quietly muttering something. It sounded like 'going, going, gone'. No, he was certain that's what Ace was saying. The boy must have been cold…Who was he kidding? The boy possessed the powers of the mera mera no mi. Of course he wasn't cold, even if he was standing in a foot of snow in only his sleepwear. He neared the boy slowly, so as not to alarm him, and spoke softly to keep Ace from getting nervous. "Hey, Ace. What's up?"

The narco tensed and looked up at Thatch, his eyes narrowing with wariness. Thatch was surprised to get a reaction that fast, much less at all. From what the hag had said, he'd been expecting to get ignored. His surprise quickly died down when Ace snapped his eyes back down to his feet and said, "Going, going, gone."

"What's gone, Ace?" Thatch questioned gently, reaching for the muttering teen's shoulder. His hand was slapped away but it wasn't meant to hurt him, just to reject his touch. He accepted this and waited a good thirty seconds before saying, "Will you talk to me? I'm worried about you. Please..?"

Ace raised his head a bit. "Marco," he said, his voice almost too soft to be heard.

"Huh? What about him?"

"I won't talk to you." His grey eyes went straight back to the ground and Thatch gave a mental sigh. This was getting him nowhere.

"You said something about Marco. Could you tell me?" Thatch took a step closer to the boy, trying to get close enough to hear anything Ace would have to say to him.

"Going, going, gone," Ace repeated.

"Ace, you're not helping. What's gone?" Thatch was trying to be patient. He really was. But the boy wasn't giving him any answers. With another mental sigh, the man shut his eyes and muttered, "I'll never figure out what's wrong this way."

He shouldn't have closed his eyes. Ace's fingers clenched around the fabric of his jacket, yanking him down. He felt the boy's lips press against his and a slick tongue slip between his teeth as he gasped. Thatch really had no idea what to do. Strong, slender fingers slid around the back of his neck, tangling in his loose hair. Almost as soon as it happened, it was over. Ace was yanked back, familiar hands on his shoulders.

"Thanks, Marco," Thatch gasped out, a hand over his mouth as he stared over Ace's head at the confused blonde. "I have no idea what just happened."

Ace's head tilted back against Marco's chest, his eyes latching onto the blonde's blue eyes. After a long moment, where both Thatch and Marco waited for Ace's reaction, the boy began shaking. Other than that, he said nothing and did nothing.

Marco stared at Thatch meaningfully, but it took the brunette a moment to get what the blonde was trying to say. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

Thatch shrugged and edged away slowly, watching Ace as he left. When Thatch finally turned around, the boy's shaking worsened and he even whimpered in the back of his throat. He closed his eyes and bit his lip. He was obviously petrified. It broke Marco's heart to know Ace was terrified. Terrified of him.


	5. Who Else Tastes Like Blood?

I was scared. If I turned around, would Marco be the Marco I loved…or the monster I saw in the shadows? I wanted Marco to go away, to leave me alone. I didn't want to be afraid of him anymore. I didn't want to be tempted to show him my treasure. A whine ripped out of my mouth and I took a step away from the blonde. But the hands on my shoulders were firmly latched on. My fingers clenched, shudders running up and down my body uncontrollably.

"Calm down," Marco whispered, his voice soothing and gentle on my nerves.

But I didn't want to listen to it. I reached up and pressed my hands to my ears. "Shut up! Leave me alone!"

"Look at me." The blonde's hands tightened on my shoulders, turning me around to face him, though I had closed my eyes. "Open your eyes."

"No," I growled, squeezing my head between my palms.

"Damn it, Ace!" Marco snarled. He yanked me towards him, enveloping me in his strong arms. "I don't know what's been going through your head but it's not true, okay?"

My face was pressed into the blonde's chest and I breathed in a sharp intake of air, bringing Marco's familiar scent with it. It flowed into my lungs and, like smoke to bees, the scent made my thoughts slow and I felt a lethargic, soothing pull on my conscious. The smallest of smiles graced my features as I snuggled into my older brother. "Mm, Marco?" I drawled drowsily.

"Ace?" Marco said in surprise, pulling back.

I pouted in disappointment and tugged the blonde back to me, laying my head down on the man's chest. "I'm tired…but if I…fall asleep…I'll…Mm, Marco." My eyes fluttered shut and I breathed one last deep breath before slipping into a quiet slumber, my weight being supported by the blonde.

* * *

Marco, just like the last time Ace had been asleep while in his personal space, lifted the boy and cradled him against his chest. He would never understand this one teenager's mind. Just this one.

Thatch had walked up at the end of the conversation, only hearing the last few words that Ace had said. Of course, in Thatch's mind, things had gone a little different than what had really happened.

"…Um," Thatch began from several feet away. "He…didn't kiss you, too, did he?"

"Uh, no," Marco chuckled, shaking his head in mirth. "I don't see a billion dollars and a gay cabana boy anywhere nearby. Do you?"

A smile edged onto Thatch's face. "Nope."

"Hey, uh, do you want to take Ace back home with you?" The blonde gave the other man a pleading look. He didn't want Ace waking up and fighting with him. They always fought these days and, under the circumstances, he was afraid of what might be said.

"No, Marco. You need to have a serious talk with him as soon as he wakes up. Take him to your house; maybe tuck him in; let him rest. He doesn't look like he's been getting enough sleep these days." Thatch reached out to tousle Ace's tangled locks, smiling as the ebony strands twisted around his fingers, almost as if they were begging for him to stay. He slid his hand free from the soft hair and quietly said goodbye to Marco.

Once abandoned to his fate, Marco himself shifted Ace's weight in his arms and, sighing, carried him to his house.

* * *

Ace jolted awake not even an hour after passing out. Hell, Marco had just settled him onto the couch and barely taken five steps before it happened. The boy's face twisted with some unknown emotion, a noticeable shiver running the length of his body. Then he gave a strangled cry and thrashed, throwing himself onto the floor, where his eyes flew open and he scrambled for the lamp across Marco's living room. He huddled with his back pressed firmly against the small table under the light source, shaking and panting as if he'd just run a marathon.

Marco was next to him in only a few seconds, curling his arms tightly over the boy's shoulders and yanking him into his chest, rubbing his back. "Shush. It's okay. I won't let anything happen to you."

Ace went still, eyes unseeing as they turned up to Marco, and the blonde barely had time to tense before the blow came. He was knocked back by the hit, landing flat on his ass, and catching Ace's next punch. "Fuck you!"

Curling his fingers around the other's fist, trapping it, Marco used his other hand to slam the boy into the wall and put some space between them. He grimaced at the dull thud Ace's head made as it thunked against the sheetrock. "Quit it. Calm down. We're not doing this. Not now."

"Shut up," Ace hissed, his expression twisting into an angry, menacing glare. "Shut up! Fuck you, you bastard! I know! I know! You don't have to tell me what's wrong! You're not-You're not…I know! I know! I…know…I…"

Marco felt dread pool in his stomach as Ace's words dropped off, that once sparkling grey stare, so full of energy and humor, was now full of an intense and limitless agony and deep resentment. "Ace, come back to me. Look at me. Come on."

"It hurts," Ace muttered after a long moment where Marco released him and gave him some personal space.

"What hurts?"

As the boy opened his mouth to answer, he snorted then immediately jerked forward, blood gushing from his nostrils and over his lips and chin. They both sat there for several seconds, seemingly surprised by this turn of events. Then Marco lunged for his cell phone on the coffee table and dialed the hag's number.

"Ace is bleeding," he growled as soon as Kureha picked up, then he ended the call and went back to the boy. "What hurts?"

Ace gestured vaguely to his head, reaching up to smear the blood all over his lower face in an attempt to wipe it off. His fingers came back with bright scarlet coating them. He blinked at it, then licked his lips, his face contorting with disgust as he tasted the blood. "It looks like a lot. Am I going to die?"

"No," Marco answered firmly, glowering as he gave the teen basic instructions to help with the nosebleed. "Pinch your nose. Tilt your head forward."

But Ace wasn't paying attention. He lifted his bloodied hand and stroked from Marco's jaw to the corner of his mouth, over his lower lip, and along the other side of his jaw. A trail of crimson followed his fingers, cool and wet on Marco's warm skin. Ace obviously wasn't interested in stopping the nosebleed, even as the blood dripped steadily onto the boy's creamy thighs, dark against the pale flesh.

"You're really attractive, Marco. Why don't you have a wife or girlfriend, yet?"

Marco lurched back from Ace, eyes widening. He absently heard a knock on his door and shouted to the person on the other side. Kureha entered with her medical bag, taking one look at Marco's shocked expression, dabbed with some of the boy's blood, and Ace's disturbingly calm and collected, somewhat curious expression with a steady flow of red dribbling down his face. She ordered the blonde into the kitchen, a tad alarmed when Marco actually stood and left the room. He sank down into a bar stool next to the island counter, chewing his lower lip thoughtfully. A sharp, metallic flavor flooded his mouth and he remembered that Ace had wiped blood over his face. Pursing his lips thoughtfully, he went to the sink, soaking a dish cloth in warm water, and wiping the blood off. He wasn't particularly worried about germs, but it was always nice to be clean.

Dropping the wet rag onto the counter carelessly, Marco plopped down into his stool again, frowning. He didn't notice it when Kureha entered the kitchen and silently took a seat next to him.

"I told Ace to clean up. Too much blood on his face…All things considered, he'll live," she finally told him, snapping him out of his own deep thoughts. "Are you worried?"

The blonde sighed, nodding. "How could I not be? My little brother might not be sane anymore. And it has something to do with me."

The hag sighed loudly, glancing around. "Where's your booze?"

Marco didn't answer the question, just lowered his forehead to the counter top in front of him and asked, "Is there anything we can do to help him?"

"All we know is that he's afraid of something that has to do with you. That's not a lot to go on." After a moment of searching with her eyes, she stood and went to one of his cabinets, the one which happened to be his liquor cabinet. It was as if she could smell the stuff from a mile away. Picking one, she uncorked it.

"Why did his nose start bleeding?"

She guzzled the booze, her mouth seeming reluctant to leave the bottle. "Well, I had to call Chopper, but I talked to Sanji. Apparently, the young chef was away for a while and Ace had to do the cooking while he was gone. Likely didn't make anything healthy, the idiot. With this in mind, his nose bleed was probably due to a lack of vitamin K. It has nothing to do with his hallucinations, Marco."

The blonde let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding, his shoulders relaxing. "The thing I don't get is…Well, if he's sleep deprived, how is it he wakes up so fast after falling asleep?"

"…What are you talking about? He fell asleep?" She turned slowly to face him, her eyes narrowed. Marco lifted his head, nodding hesitantly. "Why in hell didn't you tell me sooner!? How long was he asleep?"

"Not even twenty minutes. Passed out while I was talking to him on the road," Marco replied. "Why? Is it important?"

"It's none of your business. Stay out of it. Both of you."

Kureha and Marco tensed, shifting their gazes to the kitchen entrance where Ace, skin tinted gray and dark circles gathered under his eyes, leaned on the wall, glaring weakly at them. Obviously, the lack of sleep, stress, and blood loss was getting to the boy. He had washed up, his chin still dripping water as proof, and Marco noticed that the water wasn't helping Ace stay awake. He was having trouble keeping his eyes open, but every single time they closed, they would snap back open carrying a reborn terror. Then Marco noticed something he hadn't noticed earlier. Ace was wearing his shirt. _That little liar_. But the blonde was smiling slightly.

"Hey, when can I have my shirt back?" Marco questioned teasingly, smirking when Ace's cheeks flushed a deep pink and the boy's gaze wandered the room, unable to look at the blonde. "You're a liar."

"Well, um, it's," the ebony-haired student muttered, his hand tangling in the hem of the material. "…Do you want it back?"

Marco's features softened and he gave Ace a gentle smile. "Maybe some other time. You look like you don't want to give it back, yet."

"S-Shut up," Ace hissed, glaring hotly at him. "It was the first thing I grabbed before I rushed out of my room earlier. If you saw my room, I bet you understand why I wanted out of there so quick. If I had known this shirt was yours, I wouldn't have touched it. …I should have burned it when you called!"

Kureha raised her eyebrows at the teen, smiling. "Well, Marco, I think it's safe to say he's not in his condition because he hates you."

The boy sputtered, pushing off of the wall with a stunned expression. "Wait. You guys thought all of this was about Marco? About me _hating_ Marco?"

The blonde arched a brow at the boy inquisitively. "You sure act like you hate me."

"I don't hate you," Ace said with a slight smile, which made Marco's muscles loosen up, but that smile was one that quickly grew to something best described as malicious. "I _despise _you. I want you out of my life. If Gramps would agree to it, I'd have moved to Alabasta by now."

"Oi," Kureha snapped, obviously angered by the boy's cruel words. She made to get up, but Marco placed a hand on her shoulder, shaking his head sadly. "You can't be…You have got to be kidding me, Blondie! He'll keep saying hateful things like that if you don't teach him a lesson!"

"He's been saying them for the last two years. I just got my hopes up there for a moment…all because of a stupid shirt. Don't worry, Kureha. I appreciate your help, but if you're done…" The hag stared at Marco's resigned expression and pursed her lips. Marco shook his head once more, hoping to convince her that he couldn't deal with Ace while she was watching. He wanted to be able to speak freely.

"I'll be expecting some sort of compensation, boy," she growled to Ace as she finally accepted Marco's words and marched by the teen.

As soon as Marco heard the front door slam shut, Ace began talking, only something was off. It…sounded like he was suddenly desperate. But why would he be desperate? And why now? "All of you are getting worked up over nothing. Just you wait. I'll be back to normal by the end of the day tomorrow. This won't last long. I mean, there's no reason for these nightmares to come back to me. I did as he said. I kept my promise. Everything should be fine. He's just passing through. It's fine."

The art teacher slowly eased off of the stool, watching as Ace's hands rose to his head and the panicked glint Marco saw in Ace's eyes when the boy had burnt his living room up came back. He was panting and slid down the wall, eyes focusing on nothing as he repeatedly growled out 'just passing through' again and again. It seemed the boy couldn't stand to be in the same room as Marco. Not… without losing his mind.

Marco gripped Ace's shoulders as he came nearer, clenching his fingers in the fabric of the shirt. "Ace. Tell me who's just passing through."

Silence. Ace stopped breathing and the blonde was certain he had done something wrong. That Ace was about to do something that would make Marco call Kureha again. He silently begged that nothing happen. That his question get answered. That was all.

"The night crawler," Ace finally answered, voice low and calm.

"Night crawler?" The blonde leaned back to sit cross-legged on the floor, frowning. He kept his arms stretched out and his hands on Ace's shoulders.

"Of course, silly. Who else would steal my unattainable treasure? Who else would act like he was my friend?" Ace tilted forward, a small smile flitting over his face as a half-crazed glint lit up in his eyes. "Who else tastes like blood?"

"The night crawler…is your friend? And he tastes like blood?"

"He tastes like blood, yes, but he is no friend of mine. Mark me. I won't reconcile with him. He doesn't understand." Ace put his arms around Marco's neck, smiling softly at the blonde as he gently swayed his upper body back and forth, crawling into the older man's lap. "See, he hides behind a mask. It would change often. Thatch, Pops, Dadan, even me. But he never hid behind Luffy's mask. He thought pretending to be Luffy was an embarrassment. But, no, Luffy's reliable when you really need him to be and he's capable of being serious. I'm proud of Luffy." Ace's eyes closed and, when they opened again, the look inside them had changed into something unknown and unidentifiable. His tone of voice was completely different, not as (creepily) light-hearted as it had been before. "The night crawler doesn't understand…he doesn't understand why I got mad. Why I didn't want to pretend…_that_. No, he doesn't understand. He wouldn't. He doesn't know what lies in my heart. No, he knows too well what lies inside. But that's alright. Marco understands…right?"

"No, but I want to understand," the blonde answered, trying to absorb everything the boy had said thus far. "Tell me more. When you spoke of pretending, what did you mean? You can tell me, can't you, Ace?"

"I was thirteen when the night crawler first came to me in my sleep. He sought me out, you know? He said I was special and I glowed like a star in his eyes. He said I have potential. If only I had known the potential for what, I might have found someone else to play with in my sleep. But, stupid me, stupid me, I thought it was innocent. To be his friend, I mean. We would always play the same game every time I saw him. Marco, you understand, right? That I was a kid and didn't know what was happening to me…right? Or am I being a fool telling you this?" Ace's arms tightened, pulling Marco close, almost uncomfortably so. They stared into each others eyes, Ace seeming ready to flip the switch and end the conversation, but Marco was hanging onto the boy's every word.

"You're not being a fool. I want to know." Marco breathed it out, waiting for Ace's reaction, praying the boy paid attention to him and listened to what he was saying.

"Yes, of course. I can't deny you this. Do you want to know what kind of games we played?" Marco nodded, letting his hands drop from Ace's shoulders. It had been an odd position since Ace had gotten closer. "Well, he played my fantasies for me. I was awful, Marco. I'm a demon child, I tell you. Whenever the night crawler wore his masks, I would pretend he was the person the mask represented. If he was wearing Pops' mask, I called him Pops and acted my part. He lead me through my roles and I enjoyed it. It was innocent, Marco. Until that day. That day…it wasn't so innocent. I was stressed and the night crawler wasn't helping. I had finally noticed what was really inside my heart, you see? I found out what I really wanted. It was dirty and twisted and wrong, but I hadn't known. Not then. And the night crawler was trying to take it and blacken it even further. Make me more of a monster than I already was. I…made him mad…and…he…"

Marco bit his lip as Ace trailed off. Silence fell over the kitchen as Ace's head drooped forward and shivers wracked his body. "Ace? Are you alright?"

The boy slowly raised his head again, tears dribbling out of his eyes as he stared, distraught, up at the blonde. "He stole my treasure, my rotten treasure. It was black and it was dirty and still he stole it. I can never have it. I never had it to begin with. He snatched it up while I was watching and crushed it before my very eyes. He broke it. I gave up on my wish because he revealed to me the ashes and shards that remained of my foolish hopes, Marco. You understand, right? Tell me…Please tell me you understand…"

"What…were your…hopes?" Marco asked hesitantly, knowing he couldn't lie and say he understood. He was getting more and more confused. "Ace…I really want to know."

Ace went through a change, yet again, and his voice became full of shame and grief. His expression was complete and utter despondence. "Foolish. They were foolish. I tried to leave them behind, but he haunted me. He made me…And he…And he…And he…I'm sick and I can't be fixed, Marco. It's the truth. Kill me, now, and end it. End this pathetic life of mine, I'm begging."

"It's not pathetic, Ace. Don't say that ever again." Marco flinched at the sharpness of his words, about to apologize for snapping at the boy like that, but Ace tightened his arms even more. The teen's head fell onto Marco's shoulder.

"Marco…I made a promise to the night crawler. I'm breaking it as we speak. The more words that flow from my mouth, the worse my situation gets. What happened at my house? That's how it starts. He's just warning me. Warning me that I'm breaking things and what I'm doing can't be undone. I'm a sick demon child and I need help. Serious help." Ace clenched his hold even tighter, a shuddering sigh washing over the older man's neck. "I promised to abandon my treasure, broken and black, deep inside my heart. I promised not to reveal it to anyone other than the night crawler. He was the only one who could know. But if I'm not careful, my actions will cause me to stumble and drop the treasure where everyone can see it. Where they can see just how sick and twisted I really am. I can't let that happen. I promised him. The stakes are too high. I could lose everything dawdling over something that's, put simply, unattainable."

"Ace, what exactly is your tr-"

"No! Don't ask that!" Ace pulled back, eyes wide and terrified, his hands scrambling to cover Marco's mouth. "Don't ask me about my treasure! I just told you about my promise, didn't I? I thought I did…I should probably tell you again…Just in case."

Marco pried the boy's finger's from his face and grumbled, "You told me already."

"You see, Marco, I was doing as he said. He kept haunting me at first. I was avoiding my treasure, more and more each day. Yeah, I would sneak glances at it and daydream about it…But I wasn't going to touch it," Ace babbled, his eyes empty of emotion, and a hollow smile on his face. "It wasn't enough. Not for the night crawler. I had to hate my treasure if I wanted him to leave me alone. I tried my hardest to hate it. …I couldn't hate it, but all that time playing my fantasies with the night crawler made me good at pretending and he fell for it. He thought I seriously hated my treasure. Ooh, and I thought if I could just keep on acting as if I hated it for the rest of my life, I'd be fine. I wouldn't have to deal with these nightmares. I slipped up last night. I've slipped up a lot in the last few months. Foolish me. I had thought the night crawler wasn't watching anymore. I had thought Chopper was right and it was just sleep paralysis. Told myself that the night crawler isn't real. What a fool I was. Look at my living room and tell me he's not real. You can't, can you?"

"He's not real, Ace." It slipped from Marco's mouth like water, easy and clear. "He's not real and you can do whatever you put your mind to."

"You wouldn't be saying that, if you knew…if you knew what my treasure was." Ace lowered his head again, hiding his expression behind a fall of raven hair. "It doesn't matter anyways. I gave up on it. I've accepted I can't have it. Never ever. It wouldn't work. I mean, it's because of who I am." Ace slowly stood, stepping to the side and moving to the sink as he continued to speak. "If I was born a different person, maybe things would be able to work out. But, no, I'm sick and twisted and there is no cure, Marco. You can't cure something as sick and twisted as this. There is NO CURE! A DOCTOR CAN'T HEAL ME! I WON'T RETURN TO BEING THAT IGNORANT BRAT YOU ONCE KNEW! I CAN'T UNLEARN WHAT I LEARNED THAT DAY! I CAN'T FORGET WHAT MY SINFUL MIND CONJURED! THERE IS NO CURE! DO YOU UNDERSTAND, DAMN IT?! I'M SICK AND I'M TWISTED AND YOU… and you should hate me…"

Marco was behind Ace in mere seconds, his arms wrapping around the violently shaking boy. He could see over the top of Ace's head, he could see the teen's fingers clutching the edge of the counter and the tears that splattered on the counter top. He pressed his lips to the head of black hair. "Shush. You're not sick and twisted. If you were, I wouldn't love you."

"You…don't love me. Not the real me. If you knew the side of me I can't show to anyone else…" Ace trailed off, quietly crying as Marco held onto him. "It's…It's not fair. I wish I was someone else."

"Who? Who could you possibly be to make your problems go away?" The blonde turned Ace around, forcing his fingers from the counter's edge in order to do so. Slowly, the teen lifted his grey gaze and met Marco's stare with something that almost resembled the Ace he knew. But that familiar light flickered and went out, leaving something darker in its place.

"I…don't know exactly who I could be…but, I know the one condition that might make things better. It has to be someone who never went to the orphanage…" Marco's heart squeezed as he feared the words, expected them but hated them, that came out of Ace's mouth next. "I wish I never went to the orphanage. I wish I wasn't a part of this family, Marco."

Marco didn't think. He just did. He raised his hand and…punched Ace. He didn't even hesitate when he did it. He was just so damn pissed at the boy. "Don't you fucking dare, Ace. Don't you dare say that ever again. Understood? Don't even think it!"

A line of blood slipped from the boy's lip, which Marco had just split, and he put his fingers to the injury. "But…it's how I truly feel…"

"Don't! I said don't!" Marco stepped forward, into Ace's personal space, and put his hands on the sides of the teen's head. He pressed his forehead against Ace's, whispering, "Just. Don't."

"Marco," Ace began, equally quiet. "If you don't get the fuck away from me, I'm going to end up breaking my promise to the night crawler. And that would be bad. For you…and me. Especially me. I don't think I could deal with the night crawler's haunting again. His warnings scare the shit out of me…but when he truly gets into it…Marco, I want to run away and never look back. I want to abandon every one I ever loved and just flee this place. Leave Luffy to fend for himself. Leave Law and Kidd to occupy themselves and to fuck each other. Leave the family to wonder where I went while I enjoy the night crawler's absence…I hate it, Marco."

The fingers in the teen's hair tightened. "What was your treasure? You never told me."

"I can only tell the night crawler." Ace closed his eyes, breathing deeply.

"Where's the night crawler? What does he look like?"

"I don't know where he is. And you know what he looks like. You saw my room. The paintings. That black creature…that's the night crawler. And when he wears a mask, he looks just like a human. I can hardly tell the difference." Ace's hand dropped from his face, fingertips covered with the blood from his lip.

"And what makes you think I'm not the night crawler? I could just be wearing a mask for all you know," Marco snapped at him, digging for information.

"N-No, you're not," Ace said, but he seemed uncertain. "I mean, there's a way to tell and the night crawler taught me it so I wouldn't show my treasure to the wrong person."

"And what is the way?"

"If you taste like blood, you are the night crawler and I can show you my treasure. If you do not taste like blood, then you are not the night crawler and I will leave as quickly as possible," Ace answered. "However, my lip is bloodied and therefore the test would be unreliable. I can't kiss you until the bleeding has stopped and my injury is cleaned."

_Kiss?_ Marco thought in surprise. _That might explain Thatch._ "I think you need to go to bed for now, Ace. We can talk more in the morning."

"I have school tomorrow." Ace touched his eyebrow gently, frowning. "I should head home before it's too late."

"You're not going tomorrow. Neither one of us will be going. I'm going to call in and tell them something came up. They'll find me a substitute teacher and we can take care of everything that's going on." Marco moved his hands from Ace's head to his shoulders. "Right, kiddo?"

"There's nothing we can do about it but keep the promise, Marco," Ace whispered… but then he looked hopefully up at the blonde. "Or am I wrong?"

"You're wrong. We can fix this," Marco responded, almost automatically. He gently prodded Ace in the direction of the staircase, hoping to get Ace to get a little more sleep. The boy looked like he needed it. They trudged through the house and made it to Marco's bedroom. He turned on the light, stepping inside as Ace lingered in the hall. "The guest's bedroom is two doors down."

Ace's head shot up and terror flashed across his face. It quickly dissipated, but it was more than enough for Marco to make a quick decision. "Oh," the boy said, emotionless.

"Wait, Ace…How about you sleep in here…with me?"

Ace turned around, the most heartbreakingly hopeful expression on his face, like he didn't know whether to believe what he was hearing or not. So, Ace sidled into Marco's room, fidgeting with the collar of the shirt. "Um…Are we going to sleep in the same bed, uh, Marco?"

"Well, there's only one bed in the room, but I need to take a shower first. You go ahead and go to sleep. I won't be long."

Ace nodded as Marco entered his bathroom, shutting the door behind him. The blonde busied himself with his hygiene and, upon exiting the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, found Ace in his bed. The teen's boxers were lying on the plush floor, alongside a familiar shirt. _The boy sleeps in the nude?! _

As Marco approached, he noticed how tense Ace was, what with the boy's upper half on display, the blankets pooled around his waist. Coming around the bed, Marco knelt in front of the teen, staring into fearful grey eyes. There was no way he was going to sleep in his condition. The blonde reached out, touching the boy's head lightly.

"Why don't you go to sleep and I stay up? I have work to do, alright?" Marco nodded over to his desk, shoved up into the corner of his room. "I'll be right over there all night, in case you need anything, okay?"

Ace's entire body seemed to relax at those words and he gave a slow nod, a slight tilt to his lips. "Yeah. Thanks."

"Anytime, buddy," Marco replied, giving the boy a wide smile in return. The blonde stood and went to his closet, listening as the soft sounds of quiet snores filled the room. He dressed and went to his desk, where he grabbed a pen and some paper. He began writing everything Ace had told him, almost word for word. And then he grabbed another paper and organized the information into a neater, not as overwhelming, timeline. All based on what he had heard from Ace and other sources, such as Dadan and Magra.


	6. Ugh!

_**Sorry for the short chapter. My family and I are preparing for a three week Christmas vacation in Montana. I might not post for a while. Depends on whether my grandpa decided to get internet or not.**_

* * *

"Here's your new phone and your car keys," Dadan said, holding the aforementioned items in front of my face. "All of your contacts and other pertinent data is already in it. Also, I made sure I got you the upgraded version of your last phone."

"Dike, you're my savior. I mean it." I gave her a wide, grateful smile. It wasn't often that we were civil with each other, but this is one of those exceptions. And for good reason, too. "Is the house back in order?" I buttoned my jeans, reaching out to snatch the new phone and my keys. Dropping them into my pockets, I glanced up at my caretaker to see what other pieces of clothing she had brought for me to choose from. Out of the small stack of shirts draped over her arm, Dadan offered me a long-sleeved one, white with red stripes. Glancing down at my bleached jeans, I scrutinized the other shirts from where I stood then shrugged, as if my color scheme didn't matter to me, and accepted the shirt.

"We cleaned up everything _early _this morning. All we have to do today is order the furniture replacements," Dadan said, handing my boots to me. I dropped down onto the bed and shoved my feet into my shoes, lacing the boots up nice and tight. "Unless you want to redesign things again."

"Yeah. Let's do that." I glanced over to the corner of the room, where Marco had fallen asleep last night, slouched over some paperwork. "Why did I stay here when I could have gone to Law's or Kidd's?"

"Well, don't ask me. Why _did _you stay? Are you complaining? Because, you know, your room was vacant and you didn't _have_ to spend the night here." Dadan shifted the load of clothes from one arm to the other. "Really, though, what's gotten into you? I thought you were over this."

"Huh?" I glowered up at her. "Dike, shut up. I _am _over it."

"Tell that to your bedroom."

I rolled my eyes, deciding it was time to end this conversation. Getting up, I wandered over to Marco and hit him in his shoulder. It was a decent hit, if I say so myself, and it did wonders in waking him up. He jolted out of his seat, wheeling on me with an expression of surprise, and…he almost hit me in return. Of course, he managed to stop himself before actually laying a hand on me but that didn't mean he was in a good mood. If his expression was anything to go by, he wasn't going to be able to handle everything that was likely to go down today. But, ooh, I knew what was going to go down and I was getting out of the area before the shit hit the fan. "Oh, good moooorning, sunshine," I said, all singsong-like. "I'm heading out, so, like, bye. Oh, and, don't forget to call the school. Wouldn't want to get fired, now, would you?"

Thinking I had repaid him for his kindness last night, although some (including myself) might have called my payment a rip-off, I run-walked towards the stairs and made a bee-line for the front door. I was aware of Marco stepping on my heels, shocked out of his sleepy state for the moment. It aggravated me so much that he could keep up with me that easily…Damn him and his damned long legs.

"Where the hell do you think you're going, Ace?" He stopped me from opening his door by stepping in front of it. The blonde eyed my outfit, his eyes halting on my fur-lined boots, something he probably thought I'd never be gay enough to wear. Yeah, I was ready to go somewhere. Somewhere he wouldn't follow me. "Wherever you plan on going, it can wait. We're going to the orphanage today."

"No," I answered, smiling cheerfully. "_You're _going to the orphanage. I'm going to the skating rink."

"Skating rink? What skating rink?" Marco seemed genuinely confused. "Do we even _have _a skating rink?"

"Uh, yeah." I turned away from him and began making my way to the living room, intent on making my get away through the nearest window if need be. "You know that trolley they have that goes from our neighborhood to any of the six other locations nearby? I'm going to assume you've at least passed the Drum Ropeway on your way out of Drum Castle."

"Yeah, yeah. I know what you're referring to. It's the one with the trams that have mushroom caps for roofs…right?" Marco followed me into the living room, standing idly beside me as I opened his curtains. "Isn't that for people who, you know, don't live in this neighborhood?"

"Well, it's commercial use, Marco. As long as the trolley company continues to use the tram to advertise things, that ropeway won't be disabled. And anyone can use it. I mean, as long as you have legs and understand how to ride a bike." I unlocked and opened the window, all in a series of practiced motions, turning to face my art teacher as air blasted into the room. "Anyways, I can leave my car here, at the top of the Drum Rockies, and take the trolley down to Gyasta, where the skating rink happens to be."

"Or, in case you run into trouble and need your car to get away, you can take your car," Dadan stated from the entrance of the room. "Unless, of course, there's a reason you don't want to take your car. Then, by all means, go for it, kid."

I grinned cheekily at them both. "I was thinking that if anyone called and needed me to go somewhere, it would take me an awful long time to get where they wanted me to be. Especially if I had to walk all the way to Robelle from Gyasta's skating rink."

"And the orphanage happens to be in Robelle," Marco grumbled, shutting the window almost as soon as I went to crawl out. I slunk back from it, glaring heatedly. "Yeah, no way, Ace. You're coming with me."

"Uh, perhaps I should remind you that you're not my father, nor my grandfather, and I don't have to listen to you," I growled, my hands on my hips. Marco merely raised a brow in amusement. "I'll charge you with kidnapping if you force me."

The blonde pursed his lips thoughtfully, eyeing me as if he didn't think I'd actually do it. I fished my new phone from my pocket, hearing my keys jangling around as I did so, and I waggled it triumphantly in front of him, proving that I had the means to call the police if the situation arose. I had asked Dadan to bring both the phone and my keys because the last time I'd left them at the house, Luffy had gotten a hold of them and…Well, it's Luffy. And mixed with the keys to my car and the porn on my phone? Nothing else needed to be said. Although, this would be one of the few times I used the trolley to get down from the drum shaped mountain. Usually, I would drive my car through the underground tunnel system that was dug into the Drum Rockies. Only people who had a residential card could enter the tunnels, or someone who had been gifted a visitor's pass from one of the residents. An example being Thatch, who had been given his pass from Marco.

I didn't really like the tram. It was slower and it meant I had to walk, which isn't too much of a big deal considering I have enough sex during the week to stay physically fit, but I like my car. I like driving my car. I like making people jealous and spiteful because I'm an incorrigible delinquent yet I still have a better car than them. Today, however, was a very special day. It was Catch Me If You Can day…I mean, on my calendar, it was. Some people, such as Marco, might disagree and say it was Wednesday. Anyways, if I wanted to keep away from Marco, I couldn't drive my flashy car around the place. It drew way too much attention these days.

Marco smiled gleefully at me, snagging the phone right out of my fingers. "Now, I advise you go take a quick shower and comb your hair, for Pete's sake." He headed towards the doorway leading to the kitchen, throwing a smirk over his shoulder. "We'll be leaving in the next forty-five minutes. Hurry or you won't have time to eat."

"Ugh!" I stuck my tongue out at his retreating form, mumbling curses under my breath as I reached a hand up to my hair. It wasn't as luxurious as it normally was and I bit my lip, extremely conscious of my appearance now. Especially since Marco was in the same building as me and...Shit, I really needed to get my head checked. Sighing, my shoulders slumped and I trekked back upstairs to the bathroom. I was a rich, gay boy…What could I say? I actually did care about my appearance, to an extent.

* * *

As I stepped out of the shower, dripping water, and feeling a little detached from the rest of the world, I remembered my own bathroom. Star bursts of pain sprouted in my head, sharp reminders that the night crawler would visit me tonight if I didn't get myself under control. Last night, the night crawler had given me permission to get Marco out of my head. I'd done everything I could think of…without going to hide in the corner to jack off. I had tried scaring myself off from Marco by bringing out the paintings. I had tried painting his name all over the bathroom in hopes that enough times would satisfy me for the next few years to come, as unreasonable as that was. It was undeniably true that I had been slipping up a lot over the last two or three months. I would look at Marco's ass occasionally during school, I would dream about him, and…I would masturbate to him. I guess things had escalated too much for my shadowy creature to sit idle any longer. Still, the night crawler had gone pretty easy on me last night, considering everything he had said to me when I was younger. When we were supposedly the best of friends. When I learned about sex between the male race and suddenly the night crawler was all over my ass about having to hate my treasure. How I was a sick little bastard. Blah-blah. You know the drill.

Shaking those thoughts from my mind, I went to the sink to splash cool water over my face in preparation of the day. The long day. Using my towel, I dried my face and looked into the mirror, like an idiot. In the mirror, I saw myself standing there with the towel in my hands and wet hair. Behind me was…the night crawler, wearing Marco's mask. It looked exactly like Marco until I blinked, then I could see the red eye, though one more blink erased it again. The night crawler was watching me, always watching me. I twisted around quickly, only to find nothing was behind me. Glancing back into the mirror, he was still there and he was smiling. The mask was smiling. I hated it, seeing him wearing _that_ face. So, I punched the mirror, the night crawler's horrible, high-pitched laughter ringing in my ears as the mirror shattered, jagged shards raining down onto the counter. With the reflection broken, the night crawler was gone and I was left feeling like my heart was about to explode from the profuse amounts of frustration and fear that had been boiling inside me for years. I stumbled backwards, sliding down the wall with the towel clutched to my chest and tangerine flames leaking from my knuckles, soon to vanish.

"_Son of a bitch!_" I screamed, letting the towel drop into my lap as I put my head in my hands. I could feel my infuriation building and building, the rage sapping what little energy I had these days, and I knew it wouldn't take long for me to give up, give in, and say screw it. Honestly, a day with Marco wasn't going to help me, but I didn't think I really could run away. I mean, I wanted to flee to the skating rink so bad…but Pops would be worried about me. I could always visit Pops after I was sure the rest of the family had gone back home. I could just skip having to deal with all of them and go reassure the old man that everything was fine afterwards. It would be easy…but…it would also be cowardly. And…I didn't want to be a coward. "Son of a bitch…"

There was a light knock on the door before Marco opened it, peering around the edge cautiously. One of the larger of the mirror shards on the floor beside me reflected Marco, showing me that both his eyes were blue. I lifted my head so I could see a little better and stared at it, at the lock on the knob that was _clearly locked_. The blonde registered what I was looking at and smiled sheepishly. "Ah, that. It doesn't work anymore. I broke it a while back. Never got around to replacing it."

"Wish you'd told me that before I had come in here." I dropped my head back into my hands and wished the world away. I just wanted some peace and quiet right then. Nothing else could have made me happier but for the death of the night crawler.

"I heard you shouting, Ace. Are you-You broke my mirror!"

I glanced up at the mirror, my eyes narrowing as a shudder ran its way through my body. Today was not my day. "That thing? You have the money to replace it."

Marco stepped into the bathroom, wearing an expression akin to annoyance. Okay, maybe it wasn't 'akin' to it…Maybe it just flat out was annoyance. "I don't want to have to up and spend money on something that was in perfect condition…before you got to it. Jeez, why did you go off and…Hey, Ace…Why did you break the mirror?"

"I felt like it."

"That's not a good enough reason." He crouched down in front of me and, like the idiot I am, the nearness brought to mind other things and made my nether regions react. I immediately shifted my legs closer together, swallowing the drool that was trying to overrun my mouth all of a sudden. _Shit, Marco looks really good today,_ I thought, brushing my eyes quickly over him. Almost instantly, I scolded myself and forced myself to think of the night crawler. He was always good at getting me to control myself. Oh, but I'd become something of a rebel over the last two years and the night crawler was going to have to try a little harder. I wasn't as easily frightened these days.

Fighting futilely against the oncoming hard-on, I dropped a hand into my lap, holding the towel in place, and desperately prayed he didn't notice. _Don't look down. Don't, for the love of all that is fucking holy, look down! _Marco just remained there, kneeling in front of me like he had all the time in the world, and I attempted to wait him out. I hate losing a fight of any kind. But, unfortunately, I was rapidly losing the battle with my lower self, never mind the silent one with the blonde. I cracked under the pressure, my head snapping up as I shouted, "Shit, Marco, just get out! I'm naked! You can mourn your damned mirror when I'm dressed, for fuck's sake!"

He jerked back, scowling at me in noticeable anger as he stood and headed for the door, his footfalls heavy and purposeful. "You don't have to yell at me. Damn."

After the door slammed shut, I quickly scuttled over to it on my hands and knees, leaning my back against it as I moved to see my cock waking up. _Yeah, Marco really does look like some sort of war god when he's angry. It can seriously start my engine some days, get me going real good._ I shoved the towel back over my erection and gazed up at the ceiling, a hot blush coming to life in my cheeks and ears as I recalled that this wasn't my house I was getting excited in. I closed my eyes and…gave in. _This is the last time I do this, _I lied, reaching between my legs.

I tried to keep myself quiet as I did my business, biting on my bottom lip as I reached the edge and cum spilled out over my fingers and onto the floor. Feeling numb, I stood and gathered my clothes into my arms, moving away from the door and the obvious, white reminder of my lustful thoughts. Before putting my underwear and jeans on, I cleaned myself up a little and I was aware, dreadfully so, that I was going to suffer horrendously for this moment of weakness. And I was going to suffer for a long time to come. I could count on the night crawler for that.

I zipped my fly in a daze, my shirt draped over my shoulder. I was stuck still riding the addictive high that came from jacking off to the thought of Marco, which shouldn't have happened again. I would pay dearly for this, but I just couldn't help it anymore. I was a teenage boy who had long ago hit puberty and had his desires to think about. It was driving me nuts. I wanted to have hot sex with the blonde but I was settling for my hand! What more could the night crawler ask from me!?

Adverting my eyes from the white mess that was still on the otherwise pristine blue tiles, I heaved out a loud sigh. Sometimes, I got to thinking that I was just trapped in a nightmare and I would wake up to a perfect life, sooner or later. The worse my life got, the more I clung to the idea. "This isn't happening to me."

A soft knock sounded on the door and it creaked open for the second time in the last twenty minutes. I freaked, lunging for the door. "Oi, Ace, you better hurry up or you'll miss breakfast, kiddo."

I froze. I just completely froze, my face turning dark pink, and my eyes widening. It didn't help that Marco noticed my source of embarrassment at once. Of course, he must have thought it was hilariously awkward, if the look in his eyes was anything to go by. He put his hand to his face, but that didn't cover up the twitch at the corner of his mouth. And, like the idiot I happened to be, I started stammering and stuttering but I never once got out a single comprehensible word.

"Ace," he interrupted, poorly hidden laughter in his voice. "Just clean it up and comb your hair. Breakfast is waiting for you."

The door clicked quietly shut again and, once I was positive it was safe to do so, I collapsed against the wall. A flood of different reactions overwhelmed me as I stood there, uncertain what to do next. Relief that Marco was gone; fear that he would connect the dots sooner or later; confusion in consideration of his reaction; anger at myself for doing the deed in his house; embarrassment because the whole incident might have just scarred me; absolute delight…for some unknown reason. Unknown and uninvestigated.

When I was mostly in control of myself, I went about cleaning the mess, because no matter how much of an ass I was to Marco, I still couldn't bring myself to leave it for him to clean up. It would be amazingly uncomfortable if it came up in future conversations. If I could bring myself to talk to him ever again. I was currently trying to convince myself that things weren't as bad as I was making them out to be. Law and Kidd had both watched me masturbate before. Hell, all three of us, at one point or another, had gotten off on watching the other (or others) give himself a hand job. There was no way Marco having knowledge of me masturbating, like most teens do, could be as life-ending as I seemed to think it was. There was just no way. …But in _his _house?!

* * *

Ace hadn't dared to look at Marco, not once, since the goings-on in the bathroom had gone on. Even when the boy was busy trying to scarf down breakfast as fast as possible, the glutton, he had refused to even dare a glance at the blonde. Marco didn't know what to make of this, even as he watched Ace hauling himself wearily up the orphanage steps. Family members crowded the large main hall and the front porch, many of them calling out to Ace in varying degrees of friendliness. Oddly, the boy seemed to have tuned out everyone around him, meaning no matter who it was in the family that spoke to him, he just continued dragging his feet down the hall and towards Pops' office.

The amicable atmosphere that had been present upon their arrival was replaced with an uneasy quiet, the men and women milling about and whispering to one another with many different expressions pasted on their faces. Ace's actions weren't reassuring, not one bit, but there was nothing Marco could do about it now that the damage had been done.

Spotting Thatch, the blonde left Ace in Pops' care and ran over, quickly laying out his thoughts on Ace's condition. Marco made sure to go over every thing he had written down last night before he and Thatch began speculating how to go about explaining all of this to the others without confusing everybody. They just had to fill in the blanks in several areas, but there were some things Ace had just refused to mention, such as his mystery treasure. From what Marco had gathered, it wasn't a material thing, but he couldn't really imagine anything that would put Ace into that state.

"Well, he definitely won't want to be in a crowded room to talk about his feelings. Me and Pops already discussed that and we have it handled," Thatch said. "There's a camera in his office and we'll be live streaming to several TVs throughout the orphanage. We don't have to worry about any, uh, rated R material in the conversation. All of the kids were taken on a trip to the ski lodge. Oh, that reminds me. The money for the trip came straight from Ace's pockets. Thank Vista for that. You should probably tell Ace and hope he doesn't get mad."

"Isn't that illegal?"

"Shut up, Marco." Though he said that, Thatch was grinning a grin that looked almost painful. The blonde man couldn't help but chuckle at that.


	7. Paintings?

**_I do believe in…uh, pixies! I do! I do!_**

* * *

_It's gay couples only at the skating rink today. I should invite Law. He doesn't fight with me about whether he's the man or the woman in the relationship, unlike Kidd_, I thought, seated on Pops' office sofa and silently twiddling my thumbs. Marco sat to the left of me, my end of the sofa being the closest to Pops' large desk. He had given me my phone back since we were already here, thank God for that much. I felt safer with my cell shoved into my pocket. Thatch was in one of the chairs nearby, the other occupied by Vista's familiar form…and, his facial-uh, I mean, _faithful _partner, Pistachio the Great Mustachio. Haruta had probably bitched about being included in this gathering, but he/she was likely rejected due to his/her runaway mouth. _Damn tranny making it harder for me to classify sexes. Be a girl…or a boy! Just…Don't sit on the border!_

My stomach gave a small gurgle and I sighed quietly. _Speaking of On The Border… Man, am I hungry? But I get gassy when I eat there… Maybe they have food at the skating rink. Probably. That would be nice. Oh, wait, my wallet… _I patted my pockets absently, frowning when I determined that there was not a wallet nor a dollar nor a quarter in my poor jeans. _Oh, no, never mind. It's in my shoe. _

There was a camera that was filming the proceedings in the office, which I should've been paying attention to…Considering it was about me…But see, there was this tiny problem. Was the camera even recording? You know what, who cares? Thatch was the camera guy. I was more into painting and sculpting and drawing and…food…Yeah, food.

_No. No, no, no, no. I have to pay attention. Focus, Ace! _I drew my eyes away from the camera and to the projector, which was projecting images of my trashed home onto the wall above me and Marco. The camera had a decent angle and would be able to see whatever was being shown in the office. I could hear the others chatting. I could hear the blurred out words as Marco explained things. Sadly, my ears refused to make sense of it…because the camera was staring at me. But…It was more who was behind the camera that had my attention. The night crawler. Ooh, man, did he look like he was enjoying himself! You know how I could tell? Because he was smiling. This wicked stretch of sharp teeth. They were bloodier than usual, a significant sign of my misbehaving. The bloodier his grin, the worse my actions have been.

"_Ace_," he began, the single little word, my name, long and drawn out. I hated his damn voice. It was like…a thirteen year-old boy plus a snake equals the night crawler. Would you believe me if I told you that the night crawler was pretty when I first met him? Yeah, hard to believe, I know. But it's true. His scales used to be white and, though he still had too many ribs and weird legs, he had these calm, shiny gold eyes the size of my fists. And he didn't have any teeth, which often made me feel like I was talking to an old lady who'd lost her dentures. Not so scary, that.

…He used to have pixie wings. He's a pixie, did you know? No? Well, I guess you wouldn't. His dragonfly wings were replaced with jagged stubs and his wreath of horns doesn't look like the good king's golden crown anymore. No, his horns were dark, dark red. He looked like my nightmare, now. Well, he _is _my nightmare.

I shuddered and ran a hand through my hair, shaking the thoughts from my head.

"_They talk of you and I_," the monster said, placing his hand atop the camera. "_You should spin a lie. Tell them it's a mere joke. Oh, and don't croak. Be sure to speak clearly. Or you'll lose one which you hold dearly._"

All I could think was, _Rhymes? Why is he rhyming?_

"_Oh, dear. It seems I've thrown you for a loop. I'll quit with the word games, but you'd better hurry your ass up and say something, my wayward child! They plan to hire professional help, like a psychotherapist_," he hissed out, twisting his head around until I heard a sickening crunch and the back of his head faced me.

"Professional help? A psychotherapist?" I blurted out, scowling. "Are you calling me psycho? 'Cause, you know, I'm not. Everything I said is true."

"_This is where you _lie_, Ace. Lie out your ass. I know you're disturbed by my presence but don't tell them you actually believe the shit that comes out of your mouth. I mean, think of it from the point of view of a normal person. Understand what I'm getting at?_ _Now, make sure they don't get therapists involved or I will get angry, Ace. And I know you don't want that._" His hand tightened around the camera and, though I couldn't see his face, I knew, with all the certainty in the world, he wasn't smiling anymore. He was probably licking his teeth with that unnatural tongue of his.

_Right, lie! I can do that._ As soon as I thought it, I flinched, aware that this would be the first time I had ever lied to Pops. I forced myself not to shrink back into my seat and to say everything I had in mind with confidence. "I'm just kidding, guys. Jeez, you're all taking this so seriously. Marco, I lied to you. I knew you knew about my sleeping issues and I took advantage of that in order to get revenge for what you did two years ago." _Oh, Marco, I hate putting the blame on you for this, like everything else wrong with me. But it has to be done in order to keep the night crawler sated. _"All of you fell for it. My little act that I put on, I mean. Thatch, sorry about kissing you. It was to make it more realistic. Guys, sorry for making you worry. If I had known you would flip shit over it, I'd have never tricked you. But, on the bright side, I got to skip a day of school, had myself a bowl of sweet revenge, and I've decided I'm going to audition for theater next semester. Sounds fun, don't it?"

"So, you're telling me…everything was fake? Like, even the part where you, you know, burned your living room down and destroyed your bedroom and defiled your bathroom?" Thatch was squinting at me, although he wasn't the only one in the room doing it. Everyone seemed to be squinting for some odd reason.

"Well, I thought it was about time to remodel, and what better way to make myself seem insane than burning my own living room down, destroying my bedroom, and defiling my bathroom!" I mocked, grinning evilly at the man.

He refrained from answering, covering his mouth quickly as if to hold in his response. But, in his place, the night crawler said with obvious delight, "_Yeah, what better way!_"

"What about the paintings?" Marco asked.

"Paintings? Oh, you mean, the Pixie-Dust series. Yeah, what about them?" I stared in false patience as I waited for his response.

A snort came from the night crawler and his shoulders shook slightly with his muffled laughter. "_I haven't heard my name from your lips in ages, Ace. Ever since I lost my wings, if I am to be exact. How…nostalgic._"

Marco appeared baffled for the longest moment and then scowled deeply at me, his eyes glittering with emotion. "Pixie-Dust series? No, I'm talking about the fucked up ones on your wall."

"Ah," I said, not as eloquent as I had planned, still struggling to forget just how nostalgic the night crawler's name wasn't. "I'm still wondering what you want to know about them."

"Are you seriously telling me that you painted all of those in such a short amount of time?" Marco was glowering at me in disbelief.

I opened my mouth and closed it, then sighed. "Well, you see, I've had those paintings for a long time. They're from back when I had a horror movie obsession." I've never actually had one of those. Sabo was the one who dabbled in that kind of thing and, unfortunately, forced me to watch those movies with him. Before he died, I mean. I still watch them when his birthday rolls around. It's sort of my way of reminiscing "If you look in my closet, you will find other similar paintings that are of Pops and Thatch and many other members of the family. I even have the Pixie-Dust family portrait. Hell, if you want, I could show you the scariest ones of them all. Izo's. They are terrifying."

Thatch's hand did nothing to hide his laughter. Even Vista cracked a smile, which sent Pistachio the Great Mustachio wiggling in a short gleeful dance upon his upper lip. But Pops and Marco remained serious, staring intently at me. I refused to look at either one of them. Both were people who elicited a sense of guilt from me right now. Marco, because I was putting blame where it didn't belong. And, Pops, because I was lying to him. For the first time in all my years.

"But why name it Pixie-Dust?" Vista questioned, his voice light and almost cheerful.

"Oh, the monster is kind of freaky, don't you agree? So, I named him Pixie-Dust because, with a name like that, how can you be scared of him?" I said, forcing out a mostly realistic, believable chuckle.

"_You would know the answer to that question better than they would, Ace._"

"And the binge eating?" That was Thatch.

"I only threw up once... But that was because I drank a mix of mustard and hot water. I wanted to see if it really induced vomiting. By the way, it's true. It does." I gave a dramatic shudder and blew out a breath. "I even almost drank caster oil. I remember the last time I did that. No one questions or tries to fix a lovely case of explosive diarrhea. Not like they do when you're vomiting. You don't get the 'looks like a stomach bug' or the 'oh, what did you eat'…Poop usually stops the conversation flat."

Silence reigned but for the night crawlers show of amusement, his unheard chuckles heard only by me. The awkward quiet continued for a long moment but then I coughed into my hand, hoping someone would say something. _Poop really does stop the conversation flat_.

"What about Dadan? Was she just playing along with your little game?" Marco finally spoke up, sounding a little angry. Not good, but better than the night crawler being pissed, and better than the awkward silence.

"Yep. She was. She's my faithful servant because, with a snap of my fingers, she'll be a hobo starving on the side of the road."

"Ooh, that was cold," Thatch muttered.

"She told Gramps I was gay. You have no idea how much I went through and still am going through. His 'correctional training' is worse than any Hell you could imagine. And when he found out Luffy was gay, too…Oh, that poor boy." Suffering from mild trauma, I put my head in my hands and focused on breathing. "Oh, but Gramps came around to it. And he asked me, he asked me, 'Ace, how did you find out you were gay?'…And I said, 'I don't think I should tell you, Gramps.' But he kept pestering me, telling me, 'Ace, it's your birthday, a time of giving and sharing, so share your secrets with me.' And I kept saying that it was a time where he was supposed to give to me, not the other way around. But I told him about my first crush anyways. I was so excited to finally be able to tell someone, anyone. Oh, I shouldn't have told him. I shouldn't have told him. That was the first and last time he gave me a birthday present. It was bad. Bad."

"_I'm not that bad,_" the night crawler whispered into the hush of the room.

"Ace?" Marco queried quietly, his hand nudging my shoulder.

I sat up straight almost instantly, forcing an edgy smile onto my face. "Sorry, slightly traumatized by that moment in my life."

"I can see that. Is that why you never told us you were gay?" This was the first time Pops had spoken and I could feel my mental self curling into a ball and crying in despair. _Oh, Pops. I'm so sorry. I don't want to lie to you. I really don't._

As if to contradict myself, the first thing I did was start a string of lies inside my head. But I couldn't look at him. "No, that has nothing to do with it. Nothing at all. I didn't tell you guys because of… well, a lot of things. But it doesn't matter anymore. You know, now, right? No point in dwelling on the past."

"Ace, look me in the eyes and tell me the truth," he rumbled and I could feel his hard gaze boring down on me. I felt like someone had taken a mountain from the earth and placed it upon my shoulders. It was a horrible feeling, this feeling of being crushed by guilt and self-loathing. Oh, it was awful. But I lifted my eyes to stare high up into his pale green ones. "Tell me the truth about everything."

His white mustache was there, as always. And his shoulders were huge. He was huge. His massive chest was decorated in massive scars, which I could see because he still didn't wear a shirt. Must be something from his days as a pirate.

Before I was born, the world inside the Norowa-Reta started to revolutionize, a bunch of different groups (they didn't put their forces together very often because of varying views on how to attain justice) fighting against the slavery the Celestial Dragons indulged in and the wide-spread prejudice against devil fruit users. People who fought for freedom and equal rights were called pirates because they usually sailed ships and got into skirmishes with the World Government. My father had been essential in the beginning of what we call the 'Pirate Age' and had been the pirate king. He bargained for his crew's life, my life, and the continuance of my inheritance (the businesses my grandfather had left to my father which, in turn, had been left to me, the money, and the land) when he turned himself in to the World Government, but I had been forced to live with people always looking down on me and calling me trash or devil child. It had done a number on my head, making me hate my father.

Another top pirate, a competitor against my father, was Edward D. Newgate, or, as I call him, Pops. He retired from his pirate work, along with the family, to run an orphanage for unlucky kids who lost their parents to the Pirate Age. He and the rest of the Whitebeard pirates protected Drum Island from pirates (who had become less and less like hounds of justice and more like greedy assholes) aiming for One Piece, a great treasure left behind by my father. If not for the fact that Whitebeard helped the World Government save Sabaody Archipelago from an angry mob of fishmen, who respected Pops, then the whole family would still have bounties on their heads. But, now, they were safe to live normal lives, as long as they didn't go back out to sea and start up their pirate life again.

Enough about that. I'm just trying to distract myself from what was happening right now. I was so desperate that I was using useless knowledge of past occurrences to get my attention off of things like, oh, I don't know, lying to Pops. A distraction would be great right about now. Because I knew that I couldn't look him in the eye and lie to him so blatantly. It was one of those things I just knew, without even trying.

Fortunately for me, I could see the night crawler making a small distraction. He moved his hand to the side of the camera and began tilting it on its tripod as everyone watched me. He tilted it to the left and then to the right and then back to the left and then settled it in the center again. Then he slowly tipped it forward, his head snapping around, eliciting a disgusting noise from his neck, his glowing red stare focused on me along with this wide, smug, terrifying grin. The camera clattered loudly to the floor and as soon as it did, as soon as Pops' eyes shifted towards it for just that one second, I said, " I'm telling the truth."

* * *

They sent me to the hall after that, saying they needed to discuss things. I didn't _stay _in the hall, too frightened to remain seated in the same space as the night crawler for long. Especially when he sat there with his head twisted at an unnatural angle, his back to me, and his knees to his spine. His body was revolting, in my opinion. Instead of dealing with that, I went to splash water on my face in the kitchen, not the bathroom. I'd decided mirrors were for prissy people today. Maybe I'd be able to stand in front of one again sometime soon. I just needed a while to get over what had happened this morning.

While I was in the kitchen, I peeked into the fridge and stole a package of Lit'l Smokies, my favorite smoked sausage. Sticking them into the microwave for a few minutes, I didn't even notice it when Haruta came in.

"Izo's telling them right now," he/she said, startling me. I hastily put myself between the microwave and him/her. "I don't care about the sausage right now, Ace."

"Uh, yeah," I agreed hesitantly, smiling uncertainly. Haruta loved sausage just as much as Luffy loved meat, so I was a bit surprised he/she wasn't trying to strangle me in hopes of saving the sausage for himself/herself. "Um, you said something about Izo a moment ago, but I didn't really understand what you were trying to say."

"The camera didn't just fall over. I mean, what camera falls over like that. Seriously, it was as if someone was toying with it." He/she smiled gently at me, something I had never wanted to see. "Ace, tell me what's going on. Who was in the room with you all? …We just want to help you."

"I don't want your help," I answered honestly, cursing the night crawler all the while. Damn him for making things harder! I turned to get the sausage out of the microwave. "And, Haruta, you'd best hope they don't call in a therapist. If they do, I won't call any of you family anymore."

He/she gasped, but I didn't bother to turn to face him/her. "Ace! Don't say such rash things…You don't really mean that."

"I do, Haruta. I mean, the only reason all of you are being so nosy is because you think you have the right to be. I already know that taking away the family connection would make you feel less like you have the right to be nosy and more like you need to mind your own damned business… And if I had ever wanted your help, don't you think I would have gone to you?" I said each word with a clear tone of hostility, emphasizing how annoying it was to have to deal with this kind of stuff and the stuff that the night crawler threw at me. But, honestly, I would never be able to follow through with such things. I couldn't disown this family. If I could have, I might have already done it. Then I could be with Marco. Oh, but I wanted this family as much as I wanted Marco. There was no leaving the family for him…At least as part of the family, I could still see the blonde. Without the family, if he rejected me, I couldn't see him ever again. Not on friendly circumstances. Still, the night crawler had taught me how to act convincingly and I was going to put it to use, even if it hurt to do so. "How about you go tell everyone to mind their own damned business?"

Haruta was just shocked by this, like it was impossible to believe. "I…I have to go, Ace. Um, when you're done eating, they want you back in Pops' office."

Haruta scurried away, glancing over his/her shoulder as he/she went.

I ate slowly, throwing the plastic package away once it was empty, but, rather than return to the office, I sank down onto the floor and hugged my knees to my chest. Hiding my face in them, I fought the tears, the ones that came from me being too frustrated and desperate for an escape route that I just couldn't find. The night crawler slithered his disgusting body into the kitchen, coming to a halt next to me.

"You did it on purpose, didn't you? You made it so they would know something was going on. Why? Why would you do that?" I was choked up from my crying and didn't even know how long I had been sitting on the floor, but my ass hurt so I could guess that it had been a long time. Shouldn't someone from the office have come to get me or check on me? Something? "I thought you didn't want any therapists involved."

"_Because you're scared of them finding out, getting involved and it amuses me to see you like this. Oh, I do so hope you understand how 'angry' I will be once you return home._" A black, claw-tipped finger trailed down my cheek, leaving a red welt behind. "_Do hurry back, Ace. Luffy and I are waiting for you._"

"Leave Luffy out of this!" I snarled, jumping forward. His hand pushed on my chest, slamming me back against the wall. "Don't hurt him again, bastard! He's done nothing to you, damn it!"

"_Now, now, Ace. Luffy will be left untouched if you promise to hand yourself over to me._" He slid his hand up my chest, his long fingers wrapping around my throat easily. "_At least you know I won't kill you. Torture you, probably. But I would never kill you. Not you. No. Never. Luffy, on the other hand, wouldn't survive another round with me._"

I opened my mouth to agree, to take all punishment on myself, but I forced myself to calm down and take things slowly. I needed to do things correctly, as a pixie would do them. Once before, I had messed things up and Luffy now bore an ugly scar on his chest. "Swear on your unholy eyes, Pixie-Dust. Swear you will not touch my brother ever again if I give myself to you."

"_Well, Ace, that sounds unreasonable. I mean, I could simply take what I want, rather than give you the option._" His hand tightened, not enough to cut off my air supply, but enough to make a point about my situation.

"No, you can't! You won't attack me while I'm in a public place. It doesn't matter how much you want to hurt me, if I stay out all night, you won't get the chance. I'll make sure of it," I hissed at him, smirking smugly because I knew I was right.

He did cut my air supply off then, his tongue appearing from between rows and rows of crimson coated needles. It swiped over the welt from earlier, disturbingly wet and hot. The elongated, slick appendage fondled my cheek and, already lacking oxygen, I began to black out from the overwhelming waves of abhorrence that came over me. Before I could tuck myself into a bed of blissful oblivion, he pulled away and loosened his fingers.

"_You're too scared to disobey me. Give yourself to me tonight, Ace. I'll promise to enjoy you to the fullest_." The night crawl-no, I needed to stop calling him that. That name only made my heart race even more. I would call him by his true name. The name I gave him four years ago. Pixie-Dust. "_Come on, Ace._"

I stared up at Pixie-Dust, simply breathing and thinking. Finally, I said, with far too much calm, "Swear you won't touch Luffy ever again."

"_Ace, you really shouldn't ruin my m-_"

"Swear it!" I snarled, interrupting him in the process.

He didn't say anything for a long time. Not even his foul, death-filled breath was present for me to endure. He slowly pulled back, twisting his body around on the floor so he could drag himself from the kitchen. "_Give me time to think it over_," he told me without looking back, which made me smile almost imperceptibly.

This meant Luffy was safe for now. I knew how pixies worked. I mean, who could spend four years living with one and still not know. The concept I had just taken advantage of was a pixie's views of a willing receiver and an intended target. In this case, Pixie-Dust had threatened Luffy, which had made Luffy an intended target. He then tried to bargain with me for Luffy's safety. Or more accurately, he tried to scare me into taking Luffy's place without first laying down a price of my own. Like a smart boy, I laid down a (really high) price, meaning the 'Bargaining Period' had begun. Until either side made a definitive choice or the set amount of time (if unsaid, then it's best to assume a full week) for the Bargaining Period had passed, the intended target was safe.

However, if Pixie-Dust accepted my end of the bargain, then I would become his willing receiver, as pixies put it. A willing receiver takes the punishment originally meant for the intended target. Pixie-Dust could do whatever he wanted to me and there would be nothing I could do about it but take it like a man. Unless I wanted to let Luffy take the heat…Yeah, no. Not happening. I was going to protect that little goofball.

Sighing, I pulled my phone out, scrolling through my contacts. I hit dial and put the phone to my ear, gazing up at the ceiling as I waited. It was time to get the hell out of Dodge, huh?

The line clicked open and I heard a hushed, "You have uncanny timing, Ace. I just ditched class, like not even five minutes ago."

"It's gay couples only down at the skating rink today. Want to go?"

* * *

"Are you sure it's okay to leave without saying anything?" Law glanced over at me cautiously, his hands holding tight to the steering wheel. He owned a van, one he had lusted after for the longest time, and one which I had bought him for his sixteenth birthday. It had a shiny coat of red and black swirled paint with furry white seats and magnificent speakers inside. I liked his van, mainly because it was the only vehicle out of any of my friends' vehicles that could hold all of us, including Bepo. However, today, it was just me and my best buddy, heading for the skating rink while everyone else suffered through school. Ha, suckers!

"Yeah, don't worry about it, Law," I answered, reaching out to fiddle with his radio. Once I found my favorite dub-step station, I cranked the volume a little higher, leaning back into my seat. "If I'd stayed any longer, there'd have been drama. And I'm not in the mood for drama."

Law slowed the car as we entered Gyasta, his eyes continuously moving over the area around us, staying alert like a good driver. Ah, the things I could learn from him. "Sounds like you have to deal with a lot of bullshit from them."

"Not only is it bullshit, but it's also as enigmatic as a rabid clown," I muttered, shaking my head. After a long pause, I continued, mostly serious. "They worry too damn much. That's the real problem. If they would just back the fuck off, things would be great. Especially Marco. He's always right up my ass."

"You know, he's probably not as much of a jackass as you make him out to be," he mumbled, turning into the skating rink's parking lot. He found a place to park, quickly filling the space before stashing his keys in his jacket pocket and pulling the edge of his furry cap down.

"Or he's just the biggest douche bag on the island," I said, opening my door.

"Mhm." Law followed me to the front door, coming up next to me and slipping his arm through mine. The lady at the door gave us a quirk of the lips, looked us up and down, then quietly ushered us inside. I smirked, silently thankful I had worn my fuzzy boots and skinny jeans today. Law let me get us our skates and I didn't have to ask him his shoe size. I already knew how big his foot was. ...Our relationship was much like the rabid clown I had mentioned earlier. Enigmatic.

Law gestured for me to go order something to eat, sitting down at one of the tables to shove his feet into the skates. The blades on the bottoms were kind of dull, but would likely be more than enough for us to enjoy ourselves. When I came back, he was prepared to skate, now only waiting for me to wolf down the food and drink he'd let me buy. I did just that and with copious amounts of gusto.

Once we were finally out on the ice, we held hands and remained close to one another, chatting over the pop music blaring throughout the building.

"Hey, want to spend the night with me?" Law asked after a good thirty minutes of doing laps around the rink. "I could use the company. And Kidd didn't completely satisfy my needs last night."

"Oh, there's a guy who speaks my language," I chuckled, gripping his fingers tighter. "I'm assuming there's free sex and candles to be had. 'Cause that would be lovely."

"You make me sound like some sort of kinky hooker," he complained, pinching me sharply in the side.

I grinned mischievously down at him, wrapping my arm around his shoulders and tugging him closer so I could whisper in his ear. "If you promise to let me use handcuffs, I'll promise to be twice as orgasmic as Kidd."

Law snorted at that, bumping his hip against mine. "Just don't tell Kidd what I said. He can get so bossy."

* * *

**_Bad news, my grandpa doesn't have internet. Good news, I found this coffee shop in town that does. And they've got these delicious donuts, too. Full of fat and chocolate. Mm! Anyways, I'll try to keep updating over my vacation._**


	8. Got Any Cigs To Go With That?

**_It's kind of disturbing knowing this stuff is coming from me. Anyways…Warning: There's drug use. (I've never used drugs [or drank alcohol or smoked...__I turned sixteen not too long ago…so, yeah…that's kind of illegal for me], so…I wouldn't know how it really works.) P.S. There is a kiss in this chapter and a very short snippet where Law gets into Ace's junk (I'm talking about the junk in his pants.)…Hope that doesn't bother anyone._**

* * *

I eyed Law's couch dubiously. There were drool stains, likely from Bepo's multiple stays over, and the legs were gone. Just…gone. Several of the sofa pillows were missing large chunks, as if someone had bitten into them, and, though I couldn't really point fingers or anything, it was a tad shocking. Law usually went to extreme lengths to keep his place looking clean. Fortunately, the coffee table was in a more appropriate condition, polished and with magazines and a flower pot neatly laid out. The various rugs in the room appeared to be freshly vacuumed and the bed in the far corner of the room was made. That definitely put me more at ease.

Law lived where a quack doctor had lived. This same doctor had taken Chopper in and, after his death, Chopper had gone to live with the hag, Kureha. Law moved in a few years later and we became the best of buds on one of my little jaunts through the woods. I had been that kind of kid. The one that went running off in the woods and came home with squirming, nippy critters hidden in his pockets or dragging large dead things labeled 'dinner' or 'meat' or whatever fit the bill. Me and Law ended up getting chased by raving mad bunnies the size of minivans. Or so it seemed at the time. But we definitely bonded over it. I introduced him to Sabo and Luffy after a while. We all got along pretty damn well, if I say so myself. Shortly after introducing them to Law, Sabo died and, depressed, I withdrew from everyone. It was Luffy and Law who had finally forced me out of the shell I'd holed up in for months. And, now, here me and my best bud were, more than willing to have sex with one another, despite matching gender. Ah, how fucked up things can get.

As I took a seat, Law headed for the small open area he called the kitchen. It had a stove, a microwave, a refrigerator, and a few cabinets and drawers. He wasn't decked out with money like I was, but he wasn't lacking anything important.

The only thing really eye catching about his place were the scented candles. They were on every shelf, every tabletop away from flammable objects, every wall fixture. There must have been thirty or forty candles. He kept three or four burning throughout the day, but all of them were put out when it was time to sleep. And when I came over, he'd occasionally let me play with my devil fruit abilities. Sometimes, if he was in a good mood, he'd let me have the candles that smelled really good.

I knew the basic scents he constantly had in his home. Vanilla cream, apple wood, brown sugar, and Sicilian lemon. Any others were likely test runs that wouldn't be bought again. Of course, this often put a strain on his guests' noses. All the mixed scents, most pleasant, others not so much. I had gotten used to it, along with Kidd and Bepo. Perona never sets foot in Law's place, which he's grateful for.

"Here. I figured you'd want it," came Law's voice from over my right shoulder. He tapped a bottle of my preferred brand of whiskey against my arm, smirking when my eyes widened in appreciation. Don't get me wrong. I like beer and wine and champagne just fine. But vodka, rum, gin, and whiskey…those were my real loves.

I nodded to it with a wide grin, asking, "Got any cigs to go with that?"

"Don't you always have yours with you?" Despite saying that, he dug in his pocket and tossed his pack to me. I put one between my lips, lit it with a flick of my fingers, and set the cigarette pack on the coffee table.

"I must have lost them when I burned down my living room and destroyed my bedroom and defiled my bathroom. That came from Thatch's mouth by the way. I would have never described it as defiling if not for him." I took a deep drag from the cig, groaning loudly to show my obvious gratitude. Accepting the bottle from Law, I leaned back and just breathed out. "Shit. That hit the spot."

"If what you just said means what I think it does, then I should probably get Mary Jane out. That would make you feel _so _much better." Law scurried away, returning with a few small baggies full of pot. He handed me one, plus the necessary supplies for rolling joints. "You know, I thought you were over this."

"I am over it," I grumbled, puffing on my cig while I began the process of rolling my joint. I had mastered a lot of different joint styles, like the tulip joint or the flaming back flip. Today, I was going for the diamond joint. "…Do you think…I might be insane?"

"No. You're not insane." Law snatched the cigarette from my lips and took his own drag on it. "But I do think a few drinks would help calm you down."

"I am calm," I snapped at him, scowling. "I've been calm since before we got to the skating rink. Everything is just fine."

"Liar. I can tell you're scared and don't know what to do." Law placed his hand on my thigh, squeezing gently. "Just get drunk and relax for a while. As long as I'm here, there's nothing to be scared of."

I stared, feeling a wave of suspicion come crashing down on me. "Kiss me."

He smiled and tilted toward me, pressing his lips to mine. His were dry and cracked, but a damp tongue asking for entrance to my mouth distracted me from that. Giving him access, I sucked on the tip of that wet appendage and quickly let go again, letting him use his tongue to tease me. He urged me to follow him back into his own mouth, his hand sliding down my arm to grip my wrist. I slid my tongue between his teeth and tasted him, carefully, like one would sample a wine. I paid close attention to the flavor. Law tasted like…well, Law. After several minutes of tongue dancing, he bit at my lower lip roughly and I smiled against his mouth, pulling away. Satisfied, I went back to rolling my joint, no longer suspicious. Law was Law. Everything was just fine.

Once my joint was intact, I leaned back, fiddling with it and eyeing the whiskey in my lap. I didn't give myself a lot of time to think it over. I popped the top and downed almost half of it in one go. The liquid seared my throat, but in the best way possible. "I guess getting inebriated is as good an idea as any at this point. I mean, it's always at the top of my list of ways to solve problems," I grumbled, bringing the bottle back to my lips.

"That's right. Drink up."

I rolled my eyes, but I did indeed guzzle my drink. "I hope you have more whiskey than this. One bottle won't cut it."

"Oh, so you're aiming to get so fucked up that you won't even remember your own name? Why didn't you say so in the first place?" Law got up again and returned with another bottle, along with a few more baggies of pot and a small container of pills. A certain type of pills. My kind of pills. They were made especially for devil fruit users. They pretty much just made me happy and numb and, with enough of them, I'd be incapable of being scared or angry or anything. Even if Pixie-Dust showed up. "Enjoy."

As I went to 'enjoying' the goodies, Law went around picking up. He put away the few photos he'd had displayed and, confused, I asked, "Why are you doing that?"

"Because when you get doped up, sometimes, you get the munchies and you swallow anything that you might think is edible. Remember the time you drank caster oil? You were high as kite back then." Law was smiling at the reminder, his eyes glinting with his laughter. "Ah, the good old days, huh?"

"I'll kick your ass." I paused for a short moment, swallowing four or five pills. I hadn't really counted them when I poured them into my hand. …I was a bad boy. A very bad boy. Chopper would be so mad at me if he knew how careless I was with my drugs. No, he'd be mad because I was _doing _drugs, period. "Hey, Kidd says I get happy when I'm high."

"Sometimes you do. Other times you get sleepy and others…you just look like you're not all there anymore." Law sighed, peeking over his shoulder. "It's hard to predict those things with devil fruit users. I mean, their reactions can vary widely due to the different body makeup from normal humans. They can smoke pot once and just fall asleep. The next time they can get really emotional and start bawling their eyes out. The time after that, they won't stop laughing."

"Hm. Okay, enough about that."

* * *

Law observed Ace with intense interest. Ace had smoked all of the pot (or at least the pot Law had given him), sucked the bottle dry of whiskey, popped some happy pills, and, on top of all of it, he had gotten into Law's beer. The good thing was that the boy looked like he thought he was floating on a bunch of clouds under a rainbow with unicorns and glitter and all that jazz. The bad thing…well, Ace was likely traveling down a path towards a future addict (Although, he might have already had a drinking problem…) and possible overdose, along with lung cancer, liver failure, alcohol poisoning, a lack of working brain cells, emaciation, a self-induced coma, and resulting death from many of the previously listed articles.

Law had sat patiently through Ace's extreme self abuse, the fumes from the marijuana putting a slight buzz in his head. He'd taken away the beer and stashed it where this high and/or drunk idiot wouldn't locate it, along with the cigarettes and any form of medication that might have appealed to the fool, including cough syrup and gas relief. He put the lube on a higher shelf, just in case Ace got any ideas that didn't have anything to do with his dick. He put all of the sex toys in the safe box under his bed, locked and out of sight. Then he plopped down on the sofa, cuddled up to the narco's side. Right now, Ace was pretty much brain dead. Nothing really registered with him, not sight nor hearing nor touch. He just slumped against the cushions and hummed quietly, no real tune to his notes. Hell, that might have been him trying to talk but he was too far gone to really get anything out.

"I don't mean to be a bad friend, Ace. It's just…you've always got this look in your eyes. Not many people notice, but I do. You're always feeling afraid and guilty and you beat yourself up every time you look in Marco's direction…Bet you thought I didn't know," Law said, his voice low and precise. He didn't see Ace like this often, but when he did…he felt he needed to say something. Ace wouldn't remember, but it made Law feel better about a lot of things. "…I admit…I have _never _seen someone who hates themselves as much as you do."

Ace's humming stopped, as if he was paying attention, now. He turned his head towards Law, his eyes glazed over. Law couldn't tell whether Ace was actually listening or just being his too-doped-up-for-anything self.

"You'd probably be the happiest son of a bitch, stuck like this. You'd think it was pure heaven come to rid you of your torture." Law lifted his hand, tracing his fingers over Ace's cheekbone and over his lower lip. "I guess that's why…I let you do this to yourself. Hell, I encourage it. You're not scared right now, are you? That's good. Don't worry about anything. Just…relax for now. You deserve a break."

Law slid down onto the floor, crawling to wedge himself between Ace's knees. He doubted Ace even noticed it when his belts came undone and his jeans were tugged down enough for Law to free the other's cock. He gave the tip a long, wet lick and pressed a kiss to it. He liked Ace's cock. It was a pretty shade of pink, not too big, not too small. The shape of the head was attractive and he didn't have much pubic hair to distract from and/or hide anything. Law nipped lightly at the shaft, hoping Ace's body would notice and react appropriately to the sensation. Of course, that's not what happened. Obviously, Ace wasn't getting it up tonight.

Law glowered down at Ace's dick in his hand. He fixed Ace's pants, completely and totally pissed off at the other teen, and, while he was busy putting the belts back in place, a thought hit him. A thought he couldn't believe was his own. It was so unusual for him. Slipping his hand inside Ace's pocket, he fished the other's cell phone out, smirking. He was familiar with Ace's password, unlocking the boy's phone with a few touches to the keypad. Law dug into his own pockets for his own phone, sending Ace a picture Kidd had taken during a particularly memorable threesome. It was from Kidd's point of view, Law stretched out between the two of them. He had his face buried in the red-head's privates and Ace was obviously taking him hard and fast at his other end. It was a very inappropriate picture and Ace would be so pissed if anyone outside of the terrific trio got a hold of it.

When Ace's phone vibrated upon the acceptance of the text, Law saved the picture into his phone and prepared it in another text, only this time on Ace's phone. He selected all of the contacts, besides himself and Kidd, and then hit 'send,' a smile on his face as he put the phone back in the other's pocket. Ace could handle the aftermath in the morning. Revenge for not keeping his promise. This was less than orgasmic. Another thought hit him, just as out of the blue as the other idea, and he snatched up his keys. Time to take Ace for a nice, scenic drive.

* * *

Marco was sitting at home, watching TV, and worrying over Ace, who had gone missing after the deal at the orphanage. No one was able to find him. The teen hadn't even answered his phone, though that wasn't too surprising considering he had a bad habit of putting it on vibrate, and then promptly forgetting it existed. Still, everyone in the family had been asked to keep their phones nearby until Ace turned up.

When his phone went off and Ace's name appeared on the screen, he lunged for it, scrabbling to see what Ace had sent him. He didn't know what to think of the picture, or the caption at the bottom. 'Better sex than you'll ever have!'

"What the hell is this?!"

He sat there, staring at his phone-no, the picture. Ten minutes flew by and he still didn't have a clue what the hell to do about it. Then his phone began ringing, Thatch's name popping up. Marco muted the TV and answered, saying, "You'll never believe what Ace just did."

A strained, unusual laugh trickled through the phone. "He send you a text, too? One that–oh, I don't know–confirms the _family's _suspicions about Ace's lost virginity?"

"The family's? Oh, don't tell me he sent it to _everyone?_" Marco turned his TV off, just completely off. Shit just hit the fan.

"Ngh," was Thatch's strangled reply.

"What is that damned brat thinking?" Then Marco paused, holding his breath before quietly asking, "Even Pops?"

"Ngh."

"…Right. How many people…received it? I mean, he can't possibly have the numbers of every last member of the family, can he?" Marco couldn't believe the shit that revolved around Ace. He was certain the narco wasn't lacking in excitement. If anything, the teen lacked moments of peace and quiet. "Thatch, tell me only three or four people got it. Please."

"Look, bro, I'd love to. Trust me. But…several others have called or sent a text telling me about this…problem," he replied. He must have somehow sensed Marco's surge of hope at the word 'several' and he rushed to remedy that. "When I say several, I'm not talking about two or three. I'm not even talking about twenty. Actually, forget I ever said the word several."

"Just…shit." Marco didn't know how to express his aggravation with all of this. "Why me? What did I do to deserve this?"

There was a moment of silence as Thatch let Marco attempt to come to terms with the situation. Then he said, "Yeah, um, the orphans are going to be down at the ski lodge until Tuesday night. Should we call the family back to the orphanage? It's probably the safest place to meet. And the only one with enough room for everybody."

"Yeah. Let's do that." After that, there wasn't much to say. Or, rather, there wasn't much they _wanted _to say. Marco turned off all his lights, grabbed his keys, and headed for the door. Tonight was not his night.

As Marco was climbing into his car, he noticed that there was a group milling about in front of Kureha's house. Curious and suspicious, he jogged to where the commotion was and bumped into Sanji.

"What's going on?"

The curly-browed guy scoffed, shrugging as he blew a stream of smoke off to the side. "Don't ask me. All I know is that Ace is causing trouble. Again."

"I'm starting to think this is one of those 'all contacts' accidents," Marco muttered, shaking his head. He took out his own phone, checking his texts, and scowled down at the picture that was displayed. It was taken with a good camera, if the absence of blurring was anything to go by. It had all the details. All the nasty, naughty details. Running a hand through his hair, Marco put his phone back in his pocket. "The idiot was better off with his cell drowned in the bathroom sink."

"Oh, so we're not the only ones?" Sanji looked to Kureha, gesturing for her to come over. "Marco's suffering the same fate as we are."

"Suffering?" she asked, her brows rising in the curly-browed guy's direction. "If I recall correctly, you like Ace just fine, naked or not. And you sure as hell took your time in the bathroom after seeing that picture."

A dark blush flooded Sanji's cheeks and he grumbled out an excuse to leave, dashing to his house like he was being chased by hellhounds. The other's reaction was more than enough to confirm what Kureha had mentioned. Marco was shocked to hear that Ace had been getting around with their neighbors, too. …He really would have liked it if Ace had been straight. He had a feeling things would have been much simpler that way. Still, there was nothing to be done about it and he loved Ace all the same.

"So, I'm guessing everyone else here has seen that picture," Marco said, flicking his eyes past the hag to the group of people.

"Yeah. Don't worry. We're already getting over it. With Luffy around, not much can surprise us. This sure as hell did…but Usopp's got his tall tales going once again and Luffy's non-stop antics gets everybody's attention off of these things." She gave Marco a long look through narrowed eyes. "You going somewhere?"

"Orphanage," he replied.

"Ah," she said, then walked away.

Before Marco could skedaddle, Franky approached him, seeming both uncertain and eager. "Hey, there, bro! I got those cameras installed. But I heard Ace talked to the family earlier today. Want me to take them out?"

"No, no. He isn't being honest with us." Marco kept his voice low so as not to get the others asking what he knew about Ace's problems. "We came up with a plan but we're probably going to need those cameras in order for us to know when to act. Which reminds me, how can I monitor the cameras? Like live from my house?"

"Well, I could set you up. Just give me access to your house and I could have things done by the time school's out tomorrow." Franky nodded in the direction of Marco's building and Marco took a key off of his key chain.

"This is the key to my office. I'd like things to be set up in there. And there's a spare key taped to the underside of the porch swing around back." After that, Marco headed for the orphanage, feeling a little better knowing that at least the cameras were set up.

* * *

I woke up to Law's cussing and the smell of something burning, although that wasn't uncommon. Law couldn't cook for shit. Upon further investigation, I found out that things weren't as carefree as I had originally thought. I was sprawled out in the snow, a horrid agony splitting through my entire skull, and Law was standing next to his van…which was halfway up a tree trunk, smoke pouring from the front. One of the side view mirrors lay on the ground nearby, reflecting the cloudy sky. There were dark bruises forming on his forehead and his left cheekbone, but, otherwise, he seemed fine. Angry as hell, but fine. Clutching my head, I staggered to my feet and stumbled over to him, feeling a chill run through my body. _Damn! It's cold out today!_

"If I have severe head trauma, I'm suing you for careless driving," I muttered, catching his shoulder to keep from falling over. "Damn. What happened?"

"First, you can't sue me. And, second, I was driving carefully." He shook my hand off, his heated glare acting as a sort of repellent in case I was dumb enough to try to use him to keep my balance again.

"If you were driving carefully, then I guess your van has a mind of its own and decided it wanted to climb trees," I said, watching as the smoke began to thin and disappear. "Have you tried calling Kidd? He could come pick us up."

"I tried," he admitted reluctantly. "But, in case you haven't noticed, we're out here in BFE and my phone is a piece of shit. Doesn't have any signal."

"Actually, we're not in BFE. It doesn't snow in Egypt," I replied, smiling cheerfully because there's no better feeling than the one you get when you're a smart ass. Well, it would have been better if my head didn't hurt so damn much. I dug into my pocket and checked to see if my phone had signal…because my phone is way cooler than Law's and newer. I had signal alright…I also had a whole butt-fuck-ton of missed calls and unread messages. I listened to a few of the voice mails, which consisted of family members telling me to get my ass back to the orphanage or asking for my whereabouts. After the first few, I just started deleting them. Once the notifications of those things stopped popping up and I could actually click buttons on my screen, I dialed Kidd. …It went straight to voicemail. I tried again. Voicemail, again. I tried once more. Voicemail…again. "Huh, that's weird. Kidd's not answering his phone."

"Well, shit. We're stuck and I don't even know which way we came from!" Law stomped his foot on the ground like a child would and puffed out this hot, frustrated breath of air. The air in front of his face turned white and curled upwards as I watched. This was unlike Law. He was usually calm and smart, never threw temper tantrums.

Frowning, I cocked my aching head to the side, and shrugged, figuring it could wait until later. The next best person to call was Thatch. I dialed his number and, luckily, he picked up. Although, his greeting could have been a little more…eh, I don't know, nicer? I mean, what kind of person greets another by saying, "You are in so much trouble, boy. You better get your ass back to the orphanage, right now!"

"Look, Thatch, I'll go willingly…only someone needs to pick me up." To put Law at ease, I put the phone on speaker, smirking as he relaxed and came to stand next to me.

"You want me to come pick you up?" Thatch sounded incredulous. "Mister Billionaire wants me to come pick him up? After the shit you started?"

"I didn't do shit, Thatch. Hell, I don't remember anything past sneaking out of the orphanage. Me and Law ended up at…" I paused and looked around, searching for any roadways or signs in the distance. All I saw was snow and trees. "Law? Where the fuck are we?"

"I don't know, man. I don't know." There was something off about his voice. "All I know is that you aren't where people can easily reach you. Not anymore, Ace. Oh, no, you have to suffer. Because I'm angry."

"Law? Are you okay?" I slowly stepped away from him, not quite feeling scared but definitely wary. Then I saw Law's reflection in the mirror that lay on the ground, one of his eyes glinting red. "Oh…This isn't good."

"Ace? What's wrong?" Thatch's voice reminded me that it wasn't just me and Pixie-Dust here.

"Um, hold on." I pointed my finger at Pixie-Dust and said, "What did you do to Law?"

He simply smiled, traipsing over to the van, and opening the backdoor. Law spilled out of the back, his hands and feet bound, a gag shoved in his mouth. I lunged towards him, dropping the phone into my lap as I struggled to untie my friend. He glowered up at me, spitting the gag out as soon as he possibly could.

"What the hell is going on, Ace!?"

Before I could answer, Pixie-Dust morphed back into his true form, turning his back to me. His head twisted around, the sickening crunch loud and obvious in these empty, snowy woods. "My name is Pixie-Dust, child. I've known Ace for a long time."

"…It can talk," Law said, dumbfounded. "It can fucking talk."

"I've seen you in Ace's house before," Pixie-Dust continued. "You and Ace would fuck like rabbits, if I recall correctly."

"I don't care how good in bed Ace can be, I wouldn't have missed seeing something like you," Law spat, venom in each of his words. "Looks like you stepped right out of one fucked up nightmare."

"Would people quit saying that? That actually hurts my feelings. And you never saw me because I usually don't reveal myself to mortals. I'm normally invisible and inaudible to everyone but Ace. Right now, I'm not wearing a cloak. Meaning, anyone can hear or see me. I'm also able to bite clean through your skull, so don't piss me off, _child_." Pixie-Dust crossed his arms and glared, which was a terrifying sight. Or it should have been. For some reason, I just wasn't scared of him. And…I was quickly drawing some conclusions. It probably had something to do with my happy pills…Oh, shit! Those things made it impossible for me to access my devil fruit power until they were completely out of my system. …I was having minor (major) unnatural issues. No fire for me. Not today.

"Wait…Did you say _anyone?_" I asked, quickly glancing at my phone.

"Yes, Ace, the one on the phone can hear me just fine." Pixie-Dust was smiling. I wasn't looking at him, but I knew he was smiling.

"Thatch?" I questioned, hoping he had disconnected before anything important was said. If not, then I was going to have to deal with him sooner or later. Or maybe I could pack up and move to Alabasta. He'd have a hard time finding me way out there in the big old desert.

"Yeah…We heard everything…" That was Marco's voice and he didn't sound happy. Guess I really couldn't blame him for that, huh? I mean, keeping something like this secret from everyone? They were bound to be pissed at me. "Hey, Ace. I'll be there in a few minutes."

"You don't know where I'm at," I said, thoughtful as I stared up at Pixie-Dust.

"I'll find you. It won't take long. Just hang on until I get there, okay?" I could hear him moving and there were muffled complaints, but Pops' unique grunt quieted the others. "Stay on the phone with Thatch and them, alright?"

"Why should I?" Okay, now was probably the worst time to rebel. I should probably just follow Marco's orders and leave it be. Maybe if I listened, the family wouldn't be as mad. But, no, I had to run my mouth.

Marco's voice had a soft, almost undetectable note of pleading in it. As if he was scared that hanging up on the family would mean I was dead. "Ace, promise me you won't hang up. If you stay on the phone until I get there, then I promise I won't snap at you for keeping all of this secret. I can't speak for the whole family, but I can speak for myself."

I paused, biting my lip as I thought it over. Then I said, "Even though you're being unreasonable, …I promise."

* * *

_**Okay, someone sent me a message and she claimed to be my biggest fan. I'm, like, smiling so hard my cheeks hurt! I'm so happy there are people who enjoy my work! Thank you for sending me the message. You know who you are. That was so nice! And, for those who reviewed, thanks. I'm glad that my story has your attention. Although, I might have made things confusing in this chapter...I'm not sure...It makes sense to me...But I'm the writer and if it didn't make sense, that would be just wrong...And, you know what, I'll just read your reviews and we'll see.**_


	9. My Nipples!

**_Another short one, in my opinion. But I didn't think it was nice to leave you guys hanging for so long. Here ya go, pals._**

* * *

I helped Law stand, ignoring it when he tugged on my sleeve. Right now, it was Pixie-Dust I was concerned with. The damned monster would be more than willing to kill off any one of my friends, most especially my best friend. Of course, Law wasn't as cooperating as I had hoped he would be, silently refusing to be protected. When I tried to get between him and Pixie-Dust, he gave me a rough shove, almost knocking the phone from my hand. After that, I settled for just sticking close to him, in case my nightmare tried to do anything…expected.

"Ace?" Law asked, a hint of impatience in his voice as he tugged on my sleeve once more.

"Yeah?"

"I still don't understand what's going on."

"Oh, right. This thing here is, uh, Pixie-Dust. He's a complete jackass." I stepped just a tiny bit closer to Law, but Pixie-Dust hadn't moved an inch since Marco had left the phone. The call was still going, so anything I said here would also be said to all the people on the other end.

The sound of movement came through the phone, followed shortly by…Izo's voice. "Where exactly did Pixie-Dust come from?"

"I was a birthday present Ace got four years ago. Garp wasn't happy with him," Pixie-Dust hissed, his smile widening and his feet shifting over the snow. Which reminded me just how cold I really was. The one time I need a jacket, I don't have one…And I have to deal with a fucking pixie. Just my luck. "What's worse is that Ace hasn't improved much since then."

"Liar! Why would Garp do this to Ace?" Law snarled, clutching my arm. "Garp may not be the best grandfather in the world, by far, but he's not so evil as to sick a hairless Bigfoot on his own grandson!"

"Bigfoot?" Pixie-Dust glanced dubiously down at his ugly feet, which were indeed large and hairless. Suddenly, I wanted to laugh about it, but that would be incredibly inappropriate for the situation.

"Gramps thought I would be set straight within the first few weeks," I said, quickly making sure everyone understood that my gramps wasn't bad. Not good, but I still loved him through everything he'd done to me and Luffy. "And Pixie-Dust wasn't meant as some form of twisted torture…"

"Wait, you mean to tell me…you really put up with…this thing for four years and you never told me about it?!" Law smacked me hard on my shoulder, making me wince. I was starting to miss my devil fruit power, even if it was just one hell of a pain in the ass most days. "I thought we were friends, Ace!"

I sighed, rolling my shoulders. "You're my best friend, I swear."

"Then why didn't you tell me!?"

I frowned, glaring at the phone in my hand. It was like it was daring me to tell all of my dirty little unknowns to the whole family. "Well, it's not just you. I didn't tell anyone, Law. Just like I have never told anyone what I think about when I masturbate. It was one of those kind of secrets, you know?"

"Why?" Law frowned over at me, showing confusion, and an obvious-to me- lack of self-preservation skills. Pixie-Dust was fast when he wanted to be and, boy, he really must have wanted to be. He hit Law, much like a mack truck would crash into somebody in the middle of the road, and Law went flying through the tree trunks. My best friend's body bounced on the ground a good thirty to forty feet away from me, his skinny limbs flailing haphazardly, but when he finally rolled to a stop, he didn't move. He lay limp in the snow, almost completely hidden behind a tree. I rushed to him, turning my back on my own personal pixie with a sense of muted apprehension. Kneeling down next to his unmoving form, I shook him lightly by the shoulder. I felt a twinge of guilt both because I wasn't terribly frightened that he might just be dead and because it was my fault he was involved in this mess.

"Law? Law?" I shook him again, surprised when he suddenly lurched towards me and clung to me like a koala bear clung to a tree. Too caught up in the confusion of it all, I barely flinched when Pixie-Dust appeared next to me, almost like magic, and an abnormal black hand touched my arm. "You bastard, get your hands off of me or I'll¾"

"You'll what, Ace? Cry?" Pixie-Dust shook his head back and forth, a rattling chuckle escaping his unnatural throat. The sound sent chills running down my spine and, on instinct, I flung a hand towards him and called upon my fire. Nothing. Nothing at all. "Oh, Ace, did you forget? You took too many of those happy pills of yours. Meaning, you can't defend yourself."

I pulled in a sharp breath when that wet tongue, disturbingly hot, flicked over my ear. I hated how, even when I wasn't suffering through the effects of the pills, that Pixie-Dust's temperature could still affect me. The cold never bothered me before and I could stand in a fire without any physical issues…but Pixie-Dust…there were some things about him that didn't make any sense at all.

"A-Ace…?"

I glanced down to see Law's face, squinting up at me as if the sun was in his eyes. The fingers of his hands were digging into my shirt, crumpling it in his fists. But what really got me thinking was the look on his face. He looked…unhappy. Not scared, not angry. Simply…displeased. "Law?" I asked quietly, wondering what could possibly make him look like that. I had never seen that expression before, not from him…What could it mean?

"I'm…uh," he said, slowly forming the words as he looped his left arm around my neck. He used me as a way to sit up, but, even then, he couldn't seem to fix his eyes on any given point. "I'm dizzy. I…might have a concussion."

"I'm going to have to make this quick, Ace. Your big brother is coming, is he not?" Pixie-Dust stroked his hand down my shoulder and over my arm, his long fingers folding around my bony wrist. He glanced at Law and he had this expression on his damned face that said he thought of my best friend as nothing more than a nuisance.

I dragged a deep breath down into my lungs, slowly untangling Law's fingers from me, and then I got my feet under me. And, put simply, I ran. I pushed myself to my limit, as fast as I could go, ignoring everything that blurred past me. Whatever happened, it was going to happen to me. Only me. I wasn't going to let Law get hurt anymore than he already was. I clutched the phone close to my chest, comforted by the voices it emitted, the voices that were becoming jumbled as everyone spoke up all at the same time. I could feel my smile splitting my face, the cold air rushing into my body making me feel alive. Oh, man! Oh, man, oh, man, oh, man! I loved having a family!

"Ace, don't think you can get away from me!"

The sound of Pixie-Dust's ungainly footsteps echoing throughout the woods made me think of how a gazelle felt when a lion was chasing after it. The thought went straight out of my head the second Pixie-Dust appeared in front of me. He wore the biggest grin I'd ever seen from him and I scrambled to dart through the trees off to my right. But I slipped on the ice and face planted. _Damn it! When it _really _matters!_

I had never felt like this before. Right now, falling over didn't mean embarrassment or the thing that made you feel awkward and out of place. Right now, it meant pain. As black hands dug into my shirt, tearing it away, baring the flesh of my back to the frosty air…I felt my heart give a hard, slow thump. A single beat that seemed to vibrate throughout my entire body, from the tip of my nose to the tips of my toes. _Why me!? Why not someone else? …What's different about me?_

I had to ask. It was getting in the way of all my other thoughts, popping up no matter how hard I tried to focus. "Pixies don't usually stay with any person for longer than four to five months, no matter the circumstances. What's different about me?"

"Your reactions," Pixie-Dust hissed into my ear, turning me over onto my back. "No one hates you more than you. No one's as filthy as you. You want to confess to all of those disgusting little sins of yours, and yet you're frightened by the thought of it. And I've never met a person I couldn't reform."

"And because of that, you refused to leave me alone even when Gramps tried to take you away. You hid the music box because you didn't want him to find it!" I was grinning and, for a second, I was positive I was insane. Being pinned by a monster wasn't exactly something most people could smile about. "You just couldn't accept that I wasn't doing everything and anything you'd ask of me. You couldn't break me."

Pixie-Dust froze, slowly nodding. "Exactly. Garp put me on you just to warn you. He didn't want me to make you think you were straight or make you think being a marine was the only path you could choose." Those needles in his mouth were red and red and red. He was grinning right back at me, eager and gleeful. Pixie-Dust was looking forward to everything he was going to do. "He had decided to let you choose your own path and not force you into anything, although he'd continue to 'encourage' you to do what he wanted...But, then…that one little detail made him take action."

"Why not give up on me?"

"Because I was the pixie who never failed. Don't you know that pixies are only ever used as government reformation? The higher your success rate, the better the treatment. I was perfect. Absolutely perfect. I'd always taken the pirates and the murderers and turned them to the government's side. You think I'm going to let a brat like you ruin my reputation? I would lose privileges, you know! I have a perfect score. I never failed!" The expression on his face turned from excited and happy to enraged all in the span of a few seconds. Although, to the untrained eye, there wasn't much of a difference. He looked frightful no matter what. "Until I met you. You're far too stubborn."

I chose to ignore that last bit of his rant, forcing back the urge to roll my eyes and say something that would make him shut up and shore up. That would be bad. That would be very bad. I needed him to talk to me. "That's not the reason. Your success rate according to the government wouldn't have changed due to me. My case was never filed. Gramps took the music box, without permission, right from the Marineford vault. It was all off the books! You know this as well as I do!"

An angry snarl ruptured from his throat and his mouth opened impossibly wide as he held my arms above my head. He drove those needles deep into my ribcage, biting down. I could feel the individual teeth sliding into my flesh and an earsplitting wailing-I think it might have been me-began as my flesh and muscle was shredded mercilessly. I could feel those damned needles dragging against my ribs, through the skin and to the bone. I was screeching like a banshee, my eyes rolling back as agony speared into my side. I could just barely hear the ruckus the family was making over the phone.

All I could do was endure, gasping in pain as that revolting tongue began lapping at the flow of blood that just kept coming. I could clearly hear the sick sounds he made as he enjoyed me to the fullest, just as he'd said he would. Blood. To a pixie…it was like my happy pills. Only much more effective.

He slowly leaned back, his glowing red eyes appraising his handiwork. "Beautiful."

"You're as…ah, ugh, bad as me," I began, forcing myself to talk through the torture. "Too, hah…Much pride…Can't, ah, stand to…lose."

"And the taste of your blood is unique. It has something to do with the D., I'm sure. …It's addicting." A long, slow lick up my side put me to writhing in the snow, the loud calls from the phone the only sound right then. Red stained the white around me, making me wonder just how bad was the bite. Suddenly, thinking about it, I would have much preferred the boringly white snow. I didn't have time to ponder over whether I was going to have a scar or not!

"You're…as addicted to…blood, ah, as I am addicted…to, ngh, my pills," I told him, forcing a strained smile. "Two peas…in a pod, huh?"

"You might be right. I rarely get to taste something as sweet as this, Ace," Pixie-Dust admitted, stroking a hand gently, painfully down my shredded side. My vision darkened considerably and I was curious whether it was possible I might die from revulsion. I wanted to throw up so bad.

"Get you fucking hands off of him, asshole!"

Through the rapidly disappearing view of the world I had, I saw brilliant, beautiful blue flames…and even more appeasing, the sound of Pixie-Dust shrieking in pain. He was no longer the one standing over me, but had been flung into a tree trunk. When I shifted my gaze upward, it was Marco who was standing over me, one hell of a pissed off look on his face. And, _man_, was I happy to see him!

"Shit," Marco exclaimed. "Those paintings do not do you justice. You, my man, are _fugly_."

I grinned, the disgust that had bearing down on me moments ago vanishing into thin air, and my vision returning as I panted on the ground. Struggling to my feet with an arm hiding the majority of my tortured side, I ground out through a crooked grin, "Marco…I love…how you put that."

Bending over, the blonde retrieved my cell from the snow. "You really didn't hang up. I'm…shocked."

"I may not like you, Marco, but I do keep my promises," I hissed, annoyed. I snatched the phone from him, my finger poised over the 'end call' button. "But, now that you're here, there's no need for the phone to be on."

"Ace, don't," Marco replied, tone low and resolute, taking a step towards me. There was a chorus of angry and upset complaints from the phone, making me think that maybe the whole family was there. All the more reason to hang up. Before Pixie-Dust spilled all my secrets, the ones I spent a long time hiding.

I clicked the button.

"Damn it, Ace!"

* * *

Marco was mostly aggravated with the teen because he really wanted the family to be listening in. He was going to be focused on kicking ass and taking names…while they gathered more information from any conversation that might occur. If Ace wasn't going to be honest and upfront about things, then he'd take the help where he could get it. That's the exact reason he wanted Ace to leave the phone on in the first place. The little bastard.

Ace dropped the phone back into the snow and that's when Marco finally noticed it. All the blood. It coated the whole of Ace's left side and was staining the snow. The sight of it made Marco a tad bit queasy. Was it…severe? Did Ace need immediate medical attention? Would he be okay until things were taken care of with the big black monster?

"_Marco_," the narco-boy growled, lunging for him. The blonde didn't quite understand for a second, too busy examining the extent of the damage to his little brother, or as much as he could see of it. Just as Ace knocked them to the ground, a black blur flitted by, a rush of air following after. "Pay attention, ya idiot!"

"You're bleeding." Marco sounded way too calm for the circumstances. "You okay?"

"It's nothing that can't wait." Ace scrambled to his feet, leaving a trickle trail of blood as he went for the tree line. "He won't be able to move as fast if we get somewhere with more trees! Come on!"

Eyeing the teen with concern, Marco did as he was told, keeping pace with Ace and reaching out to steady him whenever he looked like he was about to trip over his own two feet. They didn't get more than fifty feet away before they were toppled over onto the snowy ground. Ace did this unusual squirming, accompanied by a sound the blonde didn't care to investigate further. He almost thought it was about the wound on his side…He would have been happy if Ace had let him believe that.

"Oh. My. God!" Ace said, pushing himself to his hands and knees. "My nipples! So cold! …But, oddly…arousing."

"You disgust me," came the black monster's voice not five feet from them.

"I disgust myself," was Ace's reply, rather solemn as he nodded his head in agreement. He didn't even try to roll away from the nightmare's next attempt at mutilation.

"Shit," Marco snapped, jumping to block Ace from the hit.

A hand latched onto the blonde's wrist and, once again, they were off bounding aimlessly through the trees. "Too close! Marco, I might have forgotten to mention it but Pixie-Dust can use Haki. You have to be careful."

"I can tell! Which reminds me, how much longer do you think you can keep this up? I mean, what with your side in the state that it is…" The blonde was starting to get bother annoyed at Ace for pulling and pushing him every which way and concerned because there was a lot of blood staining the snow behind them. He grit his teeth over his irritation when Ace shoved him into a tree trunk. They stood there, side by side, with their backs pressed against the knots in the bark, and puffed out streams of white.

"Blue flames. That's what I saw earlier." Ace mentioned softly, once his lungs had calmed down. "What's up with that?"

Marco looked over at him incredulously, snorting out a disbelieving breath. Wasn't the boy scared? They were obviously in some sort of dangerous situation. An unusual situation, but dangerous nonetheless. Where had the boy's sense gone? …Did he ever have any to begin with? "Really? Let's talk about this later."

Ace slid down the tree trunk, a fallen limb carved to look like a spear embedded deep inside the tree where his head had previously been. The teen whistled appreciatively at the quick but decent work that had been made of the stick. It was now an effective murder weapon. If they let it hit them. "Later sounds good."

"Yeah…For now, let's get moving," Marco answered, grabbing onto the narco's hand and holding tight. He dragged the teen through the snowy woods, listening intently for the sound of anything approaching. "Why the hell is he after you?"

Ace shoving his hand away was all the answer the blonde received.

"Okay, really? What's the matter with you, now?" The blonde turned to confront the teen on the matter, only to halt in his tracks. Ace's cheeks were bright pink. Marco had never seen Ace blush like this before. He'd seen Ace's ears go red when he was proven wrong or his face turn crimson when his untimely masturbation was discovered. But…this…It kind of reminded him of a shy girl lingering next to her crush at the neighborhood pool. And, suddenly, something inside the blonde just…

Clicked.

"Oh." It was all Marco could come up with. He felt a little stupid because he hadn't connected the dots before now. If he was right…then everything sort of…made sense.

"Look, asshole, my friend was with me when all this shit went down. You found me pretty quick, so you can find him. Do it and get him out of here. I'll distract the royal pain in the ass." Ace took a giant step back, not even looking up to meet Marco's gaze.

The blonde clenched his fingers into fists but, surprisingly, he didn't argue. "Just come back to me alive, okay, Ace?"

As the teen turned his back on Marco, disappearing into the trees again, an almost unheard response floated on the air. "Sure thing, bro."

* * *

**_Does Marco really understand? We'll see..._**

**_And, thanks to all those who reviewed! Really makes me happy!_**

**_Also, because this just has me so excited, I recommend reading Kill the Rabbit by Mountain97. It's a really good story. And my favorite game character was recently mentioned-though I might be mistaken...-...so, yeah, going bat shit insane with glee over here! It has One Piece, Alice in Wonderland, and my favorite game involved! YEAH, BISHES! :DDDDD_**


	10. Wicked, Dude

Law gave the area around him a thorough glance over, clearly discontent with the situation he was currently in. Sighing loudly, he turned around to follow his footprints back to where he had started. He continued this way, quietly searching for Ace or the wrecked van. Either one would be fine. But then…his footprints stopped. The snow had covered his tracks. "Shit! …I'm _lost_!"

He turned in a circle, looking for anything familiar surrounding him. Nothing. He looked to the sky, hoping to see smoke, which would point him in the right direction. If it wasn't the van smoking, then someone else was out there, too. …Which might or might not be a good sign. Seeing nothing of interest to the west, he twisted around to the east…Where he found blue flames jumping happily on the shoulders of a familiar man.

"M-Mister Blue!?" As he said this, Law thought, _Wait. Wasn't he looking for Ace? _"Hey, did you find Ace? Where is he? I don't see him with you. Is he okay? He's not dead, is he? Oh, fuck, tell me he's not dead!"

"Calm down. Ace is alive, though injured. He sent me to get you. Now, the faster I get you out of here, the sooner I can get back to him." Mister Blue hopped down from the tree limb he had perched upon, approaching Law quickly.

"…Did you just say you…? Whoa, wait a damn minute! You _left_ him!? When that thing is chasing after him? Are you nuts? Do you want him to die?! I thought you guys were like brothers! Where's the love in leaving? Don't just abandon him. He can't use his devil fruit abilities! He's powerless! He'll die! That thing will slaughter him! I don't want my best friend to die! What kind of brother are you, leaving him like that? Maybe this is why Ace doesn't like you!" Law paused, trying to catch his breath. That rant had done him some good. Got rid of some of the frustration that had piled up due to everything that had been happening lately. But…it also brought to mind many of the things Law was regretting. "…I'm sorry. I don't have the right to yell at you about this. I mean, seeing as how, I've…been a pretty bad friend for Ace."

"…Wait, did you say Ace can't use his devil fruit abilities?"

"Hm?" Law glanced up from looking down at his feet, mostly buried in the snow. Mister Blue was right there, in his face, intense and serious. "Uh, yeah. Why?"

"If I had known that…" The blonde shook his head, putting distance between them.

Law frowned, confused by the reaction. This wasn't what he was expecting. Hell, he didn't think Mister Blue would focus on that, of all the things he'd said. "How could you not know? You said it yourself. Ace was injured."

"Yeah, but Ace told me that thing knows haki. I'd been thinking it was because of that that Ace got hurt." His art teacher sighed, looking at the sky, seeming to be calculating something. "Why can't he use his abilities?"

Law almost couldn't bring himself to tell him. Because of guilt and apprehension. Who would be stupid enough to tell their teacher that they handle drugs? "Ah, yes, well…When he was at my house, I…sort of…kind of…might have…given him some pills that cancel devil fruit users'…uh, powers…" Law trailed off as Mister Blue's glare settled on him.

"Why the hell would you do that?" Mister Blue did not sound pleased. Not at all.

"Well, he didn't look too happy. And…the pills are like ecstacy…only not. …They're his favorite. They put him on cloud nine. And, usually, when he snaps out of it…he's in high spirits. At least for a while. You wouldn't understand." Law couldn't meet the blonde's eyes, his shoulders tensing as he stared off to the side. He had this horrible gut wrenching feeling, like there was a ball of guilt, sorrow, and concern…and craving…just rolling around inside of him. "Ace…It's easier this way, not just for him, but for me, too. The alcohol, the sex, the drugs. All of it. They make him…_us_…feel less like crap and more like fireworks on the Fourth of July. Dazzling and fun. Carefree. Out of this world. No more problems or worries because, high or drunk or fucking like crazy, we finally feel like we're _worth something_. Like we deserve a little attention and a little love from the people we admire and love and who we want to love us back. It may not be everlasting, but it sure as Hell feels good while it lasts."

Mister Blue backed off a bit, staring down at Law with an unidentifiable look in his eyes. "Oi, it may be easier, it may make you feel better for a while, but that doesn't mean it's good for you. You're just hurting yourselves. Trust me. …Trafalgar, I want you to promise no more drugs or alcohol or sex. For you or my little brother."

Law's head snapped up, his brown eyes finding Mister Blue's gaze instantly. He stepped forward, refusing to back down. "You can't ask that of me! I mean, I understand wanting us to quit the pills. I don't like those much anymore anyways. After seeing Ace brain dead so many times, I can't bring myself to pop them. But the alcohol and the sex? That's not gonna stop, man! I won't stop drinking or sniffing and I doubt Ace will either! Plus, even if Ace stops fucking me, or I stop letting him fuck me, we'll both go fuck some other guy, like Kidd or a stranger with some STD. I don't want that! I don't want an STD!"

"And I don't want you or Ace to throw your lives away for a few pills, a bottle of scotch, and a one night stand! You're both my students and he's my _brother_!" Mister Blue was just as resilient, if not more so, gritting his teeth over his words and growling them out with determination. That was one blonde that wasn't to be taken lightly. Not when his family came into consideration. Law didn't really believe it had anything to do with his students, however. It was just about Ace, as far as Law was concerned.

"There's no chance of a one night stand with me, buddy! Seriously, I can't tell you how many times we've fucked in the last three years!"

The blonde paused, blinking slowly. "Three years? But that…That would make Ace fourteen when he lost his virginity!"

"I can tell you all about our first time together, if that'll help change your mind," Law said, smirking. The look on Mister Blue's face was hilarious. He looked alarmed and a little bit in awe. "I have no qualms with telling you about Ace's sex life. It'll put to shame any sex you've ever had…If you've had any."

The awe went away instantly, replaced with irritation. The art teacher pursed his lips, then exhaled slowly, raising his arm to point off to the right. "Alright, then. There's a pond not too far off through those trees. I'm going to knock you out…and throw you in it. That way, Ace won't be affected by your bad influence. We both obviously care for Ace…and yet I get the feeling that if I don't get rid of you…Nothing good will come of your relationship with him."

Law froze, his jaw dropping as he ran those words through his head again…and again. And again. He was shocked to hear something like that from his teacher. Wow. Talk about teacher-student violence. Law wanted to both laugh at how outlandish the situation was and run because Mister Blue looked dead serious. The teen wasn't a coward…just smart enough to know that the blonde was much stronger. Having been a Whitebeard pirate, which was no secret, and the first mate, at that, kind of gives credit where credit is due. Law had to admit that he was a lot more comfortable around this guy when he was pretending to care about moral codes and governmental laws. "Y-You can't be serious! You're going to kill me? What will Ace think, huh?!"

"Don't worry. It'll be an unfortunate accident. You went wandering, didn't watch your step, and ended up falling into the pond. Sank like a rock. Nothing I could do to save you." Mister Blue gave an unconvincing shrug, shaking his head with a very clearly faked expression of remorse. "Just an unfortunate accident."

Unsure how to respond to something like that, Law backed away, his boots sinking into the snow, and the sound of ice crunching beneath his feet seemed to echo between the two of them. He swallowed, puffed out a soft breath, and then relaxed. Running wouldn't help in this situation. "Ace doesn't need me for sex or drugs or alcohol. He has other people. I only chose to give him those things to keep him from going over the brink and overdosing. I've been dealing with drugs for a long time, so I know how much of a drug it would take to kill someone. Without me, he's more likely to do a little too much, go a little too far, and, I promise you, if that happens, he won't be coming back for either one of us. Death is irreversible like that."

Mister Blue's brows rose and the man approached the unnerved teen. He placed a hand on a slim shoulder, his hold firm, almost painful…but, oddly enough, comforting. "Then we're going to have to make sure he doesn't get his hands on anyone willing to supply him, aren't we? Also, to encourage him, you're going to have to act as a role model. You have to quit, too."

"You…don't expect us to quit cold turkey, do you? For people like us, that's pretty much impossible. I have drugs stashed in my house for everyday use. I'm that bad. Ace doesn't take drugs every day, not that I know of, but when he does them...well, he's not one to do things halfway. We would have to gradually reduce his intake every time he got the urge. Even so, there's still a chance of withdrawal...For me, mostly." Law shifted his feet in the snow, thinking about the last time he'd tried to get Ace to quit cold turkey. The last time, he himself had tried to quit cold turkey. He'd tried often. It never lasted more than two or three days for Law. A week or so for Ace. But Ace had always been the stronger of them. "I can't force him to quit without warning. I can't do that to him. Or myself. Not again. I'm sorry. I want to help, but I feel like…it's useless trying. It always ends in failure and that feels just as bad as that moment when the craving is about to become too much."

"You've tried before?" The blonde looked surprised, but pleased.

"Yes, of course. I don't like seeing Ace like that. Drunk is one thing. Brain dead is… something else entirely." Law shot his art teacher a hot glare, insulted, although he knew he had no right to feel that way. "I may be a bad friend, but I'm still a friend."

His teacher stood there silently, his hand slipping away from the teen's shoulder, then he smiled softly. "Are you willing to try? For Ace?"

Law squeezed his eyes shut, peering inside himself, fighting for the real answer. Not the fake one. Not the one that his addiction was telling him. It kept shouting that he wasn't ready, that he wasn't _willing_. But behind that…was a soft, reassuring whisper. A whisper he'd heard before. It had driven him to try to get Ace to quit. It had told him to help his friends. Not just Ace. Kidd, Hawkins, Bonney, and even Perona. It was always there. Hidden behind his addiction. It was saying…_Heal them. They're hurting. You need to heal them. _"Yeah. He's my friend and I'm _more than willing _to do anything to help him get better….But on one condition…Not just Ace. All of my friends. We…Every one of us… We have problems."

When Law looked up again, Mister Blue's smile widened, something seeming to sparkle inside his vivid blue eyes. He gave a quick, approving nod and turned away. The man then went walking off into the trees and the shadows.

After a moment of indecision, the teen decided that it would be better to stick with him than wander around aimlessly. "Uh, wait! Where are you going?"

Mister Blue glanced over his shoulder. "Well, if Ace really can't use his abilities, then I don't trust him to stay alive. I'm going to find him. You should probably wait here."

"Wait up. I can help," Law called, struggling through the deep snow.

"No, wait here, kiddo. I'll be back to get you before you know it." And then Mister Blue disappeared in a flurry of billowing blue flames that took to the sky, leaving Law with a case of open-mouthed shock. It took a few minutes but he finally worked through his inner tumult, turning towards the area the other had pointed to not too long ago. A pond, huh? Nodding slowly to himself, Law made his way in that direction, coming to a fallen tree beside the water, which had frozen over nicely. It would be a great place to get away to. To skate, no one else there to bother him. Breathing deeply of the frigid air, he swept the snow off of a portion of the tree and sat down. And waited.

* * *

As soon as I felt as if Marco could no longer see me, I slumped against a nearby tree, sliding down into the snow. I stopped trying to control my breathing, sitting there panting as black dots encroached upon my eyesight. My side ached. It wasn't that hot, sharp pain I'd felt earlier. It was a duller, throbbing one that took up my entire chest and side area. It made it hard to breathe. Harder to focus. I felt as if it was pulsating with each thump of my heart. Shivers went up and down my spine. I don't know if it was from the snow I was sitting around in or the slight chill of fear that had settled inside me. I wasn't scared to die. That wasn't the problem. I was anxious for when Pixie-Dust found me. And he would. It wouldn't take long for him to get to me. He might even be pissed enough to go right ahead and kill me. Hopefully, right before death, I'd be hit with a narcoleptic fit, so I'd go in my sleep. Thatch had always said I'd die during one of my sleep spells. Wouldn't want to prove him wrong, now would I?

I used to think I'd die fighting with one of the gangs on the island. Or fighting against someone who hated my father. In all the ways I'd thought I'd die, all of them involved me fighting back. Still, it had taken all of my strength to keep it together until I was out of Marco's sight. Fighting wasn't on the short list of things I could probably manage to do in case of an emergency. Hell, breathe barely made it onto that list. So, if I wasn't going to die fighting back, I wanted to go in my sleep.

"Ace." It was a sibilant sound, adoration coloring my name. Unexpected. When did he get here? And…I'd thought he'd be angry. I guess, as long as he knew I wasn't entirely out of his grip, he was hunky-dory. After a moment, I noticed that it was completely dark all around. Did the black dots finally take over?

…Actually, I had closed my eyes and I hadn't even noticed it. Groaning, I forced myself to open them, staring into Pixie-Dust's glowing red orbs. I leaned my head back, looking up at the cloudy sky, trying to get myself to register what was going on. Something was…My side. He was touching me. His tongue was slick with my blood and I could barely feel it as he swept it over my wounds. I could, however, feel the nausea that rose with the thought.

Why couldn't I feel it? I hadn't lost that much blood, had I? It couldn't be all that deep, could it? Maybe all that running with Marco had been a bad idea. It might have made things worse for me.

Gazing up at the sky as I was, I noticed a spot of blue. At first, I thought it was a break in the clouds. But…It was rapidly getting bigger and the edges were moving wildly. As far as I know, clouds don't do that. Then I could see flickers of orange and yellow here and there. Streaks of pale indigo. Hints of green in some places. I only had a second more to wonder what the mass of color was before it was on top of me. No, on top of Pixie-Dust. Now, I could see it up close.

And it was beautiful. The pointed beak had familiar glittering blue eyes set above it. The neck was long and elegant, a golden mane of fire stretching from the top of the skull to between its shoulders. Broad, powerful wings produced strong gusts of wind as the bird hovered over the snow. The multicolored flames capered on the surface of sleek, gleaming blue feathers. Its chest bore an unmistakable mark in dark blue, similar to the rings around the eyes. Long tails, decorated with tiny flares, whipped out behind the creature, some simple flowing feathers, others appearing to be interlocking circles. And they were as glossy and smooth as they looked, one laying in my lap. I couldn't resist running my fingers over it, continuously stroking it. The fire wasn't hot like I thought it would be. It didn't burn me, wrapping harmlessly around my fingers. The way it felt…It reminded me of early morning mist, cool and brushing against my skin in a way that I was so aware of…and, yet, it was so light and wispy that it felt nonexistent.

I lacked air for a different reason now. As I ogled the creature, my chest tightened. It had been such a long time since I had felt like this. This…was an exquisite, enchanting sight. I was completely enthralled by it.

I felt like this creature could erase all my fears and worries. It had a stunning impact on me. In the last two years, the only things I really had the urge-although, truth be told, it had been a sick, twisted urge-to paint were things best left off of my canvas. I'd done the assignments Marco had given me…but none of them had been completed with my heart in it. I hadn't _wanted _to do them. They had served to interest me little. That's why…I'd downgraded them. When I'd looked at my completed assignments, I wasn't really satisfied at all. To me, though I knew it looked fine, the art always induced an ugly, wretched feeling. So, I'd tried to make the art match the feeling. By downgrading it. I'd learned from Marco that art involved a lot of emotion and hidden messages. Maybe that's why I'd felt the need to change my end product. After a while, I searched for things that would make me _want _to paint or draw again…I'd never really found anything. Until now.

I wanted to put this sight down on canvas. I knew I would regret it if I didn't. I wanted to devote my attention to painting what I was seeing right now. And I wouldn't need a model because I wouldn't forget this. It was burned into my memory.

"Wicked, dude," I whispered in reverence, feeling my heart nearly stop when those impressively blue eyes turned to me. _Wow…Yeah, I can't breathe._

"You!" Pixie-Dust snarled, clawing at Marco's talons…the ones buried in his bony shoulders.

I tried to stand, hoping to help my big brother kick some pixie ass, but my side gave a painful twinge and, wincing, I settled back into the snow. "Marco…"

Marco let go of Pixie-Dust, slowly, to show us that it wasn't because of Pixie-Dust that he was letting go. He shifted back into his human form, now standing between me and my nightmare. When Pixie-Dust edged forward, hissing in an intimidating way, Marco merely crooked a finger in the classic 'come and get it, I dare you' hand signal. Only Marco must have been bluffing. He couldn't possibly believe Pixie-Dust was going to lose. Pixie-Dust may be _just _decent in a fight, but there was one way to kill him, and killing him was the one way to stop him. As long as Pixie-Dust was alive, he wasn't going to roll over and give in. He'd keep coming back, even if he was being beat down every time he came around. If there was another way…But there wasn't. The only thing I could think of that could kill Pixie-Dust was the music box. It was what Pixie-Dust had been born in and what he'd been given to me in. If I could find it, I could destroy it and Pixie-Dust, too.

"Move, blondie," Pixie-Dust growled, his feet pushing snow around as he shifted from one foot to the other. "He's mine."

Marco didn't respond. Just stood there. Like a badass.

Pixie-Dust huffed, a sound not like anything I've ever heard-which probably had something to do with all the teeth-and then he charged. It was like watching one of my bad dreams play out before my eyes. Marco standing there, all statue-like, and Pixie-Dust's claws diving in for the kill. A shudder raced down my spine as my eyes tracked every inch between my nightmare and my love. A few inches and he'd die. Marco's heart would be shredded.

And then…Marco _moved_. That doesn't even describe what he did. He went from one spot to another in…like, half a second. His wings were back, but everything else was still human. He hovered, for a millisecond, just above Pixie-Dust, his foot on that crown of horns, and an impish grin on his face. Our eyes connected and that smile widened, Marco looking more like an excited teen than anything. The moment passed and, with what must have been a powerful kick, Pixie-Dust went flying, shattering a tree trunk in the process. The damaged tree went crashing down, the resulting sound making me clench my hands over my ears. Pixie-Dust was writhing on the ground, pawing at his head, and I noticed that one of his larger horns had broken. The piece that had snapped off was lying in the snow not even five feet from me, the reddish black color fading from it as I watched, replaced with gold. Now, that was kind of nostalgic.

Pixie-Dust was up again in no time, crouched on all fours, weird knees jutting out behind him, and his large red eyes narrowed. Like that…He made me think of a deformed, hairless cat. Which, in turn, made me think of hairless Chihuahuas. And no one likes Chihuahuas. If I'm going to get a dog, I'm going big. Not small. …And that's not relevant to anything at all.

Pixie-Dust darted across the snow, leaping up to catch Marco in a death grip. One that would likely end with Marco's intestines everywhere. Not something I wanted to see. But that's not how it panned out. My blonde was a smart blonde. He turned his arms back to normal and dropped into a roll, going right under Pixie-Dust. He came up again and twisted around, facing his opponent head on. Pixie-Dust approached, Marco keeping calm and waiting it out. Waiting until the perfect moment to strike. And he missed, instead getting a slice across his collarbone for his effort. Blood dribbled down his chest in tiny rivulets, quickly soaking into the material of his shirt. Marco gave Pixie-Dust a knee to the stomach, putting the pixie to writhing on the snow again. The pixie didn't stay down, leaping back up and making a mad swipe for Marco's face. Marco lifted his arm, blocking the attack to his face, thank God, but his arm suffered for it. Those claws scraped through his flesh easily, I knew. I'd been on the receiving end of those things before. They worked like a hot knife to butter. But Marco didn't even hesitate. They kept fighting, swapping blows. I particularly enjoyed it when Marco broke Pixie-Dust's finger and Pixie-Dust bit his own lip from the pain. That was probably my favorite thing to watch.

After a while, their tit-for-tat thing wasn't going so well. Pixie-Dust went in with one of his messed up legs and Marco hopped over his attempt at sweeping the blonde's legs out from under him. During that hop, Marco pulled his leg back and hit the damned asshole in the teeth with all he had. I had never heard Pixie-Dust _scream_. Shout and holler and bitch and moan, yes, but not once had he screamed in my presence. Teeth to a pixie must be like a penis to a guy.

As a gob of teeth fell out, melting into a sticky black goop before they even hit the snow, Pixie-Dust's brownish-green blood came oozing down his face, and this scream-I will never forget it-tore into my eardrums without mercy. It was like a cross between nails on a chalkboard, the squeal of a pig, and the roar of a train rushing past. All amplified for added effect. Me and Marco covered our ears, cursing our luck for all it was worth. Or, at least, I was cursing mine. You don't go through this kind of stuff without a little hatred for Lady Luck, I promise you that.

As the scream died out, Marco pulled himself to his full height, and I let my hands fall back into my lap. My headache was back in full force. Wow, I hadn't even noticed it had went away. Oh, well. I had more important things to worry about. Like my brother. Once more, Marco did that vanishing act of his. One place, poof, another place. His foot swung in and drilled into Pixie-Dust's left cheek. Pixie-Dust went flying again, tumbling through the snow and bumping into a few trees here and there as he went.

"Keep it down, would ya?" Marco snapped, a finger tracing the outer curve of his ear.

I bit my lower lip, suppressing my smile. Marco was so cool. Just like I remembered. Relaxed and making smart remarks in the midst of a frightful event. No more scared of Pixie-Dust than he was of the jump it took to get my kite back for me. Seeing him like this…It reminded me why it was _him _I fell for. Why, back then, I'd wanted to face my love for Marco like Marco faced everything else. I'd tried my hardest to be optimistic, even knowing a relationship between a thirteen-year old and an ex-pirate, both male, was unlikely. I'd never thought about family status or what everyone else might think. I was too stupid to make the connection myself. Someone else had to spell it out for me. All I'd wanted was to confess to him without fear. But where did my courage go? When my naiveté was forced from me…where did my resolution, my mettle run off to?

Lost in my thoughts, I almost missed it when Pixie-Dust stood, turned his back to us, and broke his own neck, his chin against the top of his spine. He had a tendency to do that, seeing as how his body wasn't made to walk forward. His knees faced the wrong way, so he had to walk backwards to get anywhere. He was faster this way. Also, a better fighter. Proof of the matter? In no time, he had Marco pinned beneath him.

"Marco!" I exclaimed, clutching my side when I tried to get up. Clenching my teeth, I forced myself to stand, keeping my eyes trained on Pixie-Dust. There was no way I was going to get across the clearing fast enough to stop him. I'd lost too much blood today. I felt like I did after the first time I gave blood. Dizzy and shit. No better way to describe the feeling I was experiencing. Shit. Just shit. I huffed out a breath, pushing the pain aside, thinking furiously in hopes of something popping up to help me out with my current dilemma. My eyes scanned the surrounding area, looking for hints as to what might be possible. Then…my eyes halted. The golden horn.

Pixie-Dust had once told me a long time ago that, during mating season-'cause pixies are like a bunch of fucking animals-the males use their horns to duel with one another. A pixie can scar a pixie. A pixie can kill a pixie. A human may not be able to do anything permanent…but I didn't need to. The horns are the key. There was a horn right next to me. But…I couldn't get to Marco that fast. Just because I had what I needed…didn't mean I could do what I wanted. For now, since there wasn't enough time for anything else, I would have to throw it to him and hope for the best.

I darted over to it, almost losing my balance in the process, but I scooped it up. Staring down at it silently, I recalled all those times Pixie-Dust had played with me when I was younger. He'd seemed so patient and kind back then. He'd…felt like a friend to me. But, now, I couldn't say that. He wasn't like what he used to be. He was cruel and he had hurt my family. He hurt Luffy, my little brother. …So…I shouldn't feel guilty for wanting to hurt him back...to see him suffer a little...right?

The horn rested in my grip, about six inches long altogether, four at its thickest. It came to a sharp point, though it had a bit of a curve to it. It was pale golden, shiny, and there wasn't a scratch to its surface. It might be able to kill Pixie-Dust. Or at least wound him enough to send him running. In my opinion, it would suffice in lieu of the music box.

"Marco," I called, tossing the horn. He glanced my way, his eyes immediately tagging onto it. I could tell he knew what it was. Good. Less time spent trying to explain. I put my hand on the nearest tree, steadying my legs as I watched the horn spiral through the air. Pixie-Dust looked up, saw it, reached for it, and fear shot through me. If he got it, I really wouldn't be able to save Marco. Unless I pushed myself to my limit. I could probably do that. Maybe die in the process…but save my brother, too. It'd be worth it.

But it was unnecessary. Marco put his foot on Pixie-Dust's chest and threw him off, kicking him into the snow. My magnificent brother caught that horn and, like a boss, slammed it into Pixie-Dust's sternum. I heard Pixie-Dust scream for the second time, clawing at his chest, ripping into his skin as he tried to tear the horn out. The flesh around it was bubbling up, turning greenish yellow and, each time a bulbous globule popped, a fizzing liquid seeped out. And the stench that went with it wasn't much more appetizing. The horn fell to the ground, Pixie-Dust rolling from side to side and gasping helplessly as his screaming finally quieted. He struggled to his feet, hand over the gruesome wound, and disappeared with a flurry of disturbed snow following after. Not dead, but a wound like that would take lots of time to heal.

Marco got up, making to follow after him, but I…didn't want that.

"Leave him alone, Marco," I said.

"But he's not dead, yet," he responded, taking another step after Pixie-Dust.

"I said, leave him alone. I mean it." I didn't waver in my decision. It was sudden and, most people would ask why, but…I couldn't kill him. Hurt him…yeah. I was angry that he'd hurt someone I loved. He'd hurt Luffy…That was something big. Yeah, I was leaning towards chasing after him and killing him. Just thinking about Luffy's scar ticked me off. But…Would I be able to keep my life stable without him? Would I cave under all the stress and just…kill myself? It'd crossed my mind before, but the thought of Pixie-Dust turning on Luffy had kept me from it. …But…What if my reaction to his absence was different? What if I…confessed to Marco? I already knew I'd be sorely tempted with Pixie-Dust's threats out of the way. I'd get my hopes up, only to have them crushed like a cigarette under my boot. That would kill me. Without Pixie-Dust…I just wouldn't be stable anymore. I'd do things that he kept me from doing all these years. I had wanted him gone…and, now, I didn't. Just like how I always wanted to hear from Marco and yet, at the same time, I didn't. I'm…full of contradictions.

"Ace…Don't you want to make sure he's dead?" Marco asked, glancing between the trees and me. He looked eager, like he was rearing and ready to go chase down Pixie-Dust. Excited. Battle ready. An ex-pirate...

I leaned heavily against the tree, my knees wanting to give out. Not for any physical reason. It had to do with the fact that I was just tired of it all. Everything. The lying, the deceiving, the hiding, the…_wanting_. I was always craving something. Marco, peace, a different life…_Marco_. "I want him to die…I don't want him to die. Ugh. Look…It's hard to understand what I'm feeling right now. He's like an addiction, Marco. I hate him. I really do. But…I don't think I can live without him…And I hate that I feel that way. But I'm not willing to give him up. He's my lifeline."

"…Ah." Marco went silent, walking over to the horn lying on the ground. Then he turned to me again, shoving the horn into his jacket pocket. The end poked out, but I guess it didn't really matter to either one of us. "We'd best be getting back to your friend. He's been waiting for quite some time."

"Okay." I pushed off of the tree and forced myself to act tough, like I could actually walk more than ten feet and not pass out.

"…You're gonna walk?"

I frowned, gazing at him. "Uh…well, I can't drive. I don't have a car."

Marco grinned, a slow change in his facial expression that had my cheeks hurting with the urge to smile back. But I held it in…until he said, "Wanna fly?"

"Hell, yeah!"


	11. If The Doc Asks, I Was Resting

_**My best friend helped me with the names of the places (and the tattoo design) and several other things. She's so unique...Like, everyday conversations with her are inspirational. She's a wicked awesome person and I'm grateful to have her. :D**  
_

* * *

_Run 'em like run 'em run 'em, whoop!_

The music blasted throughout The Broken Needle, the tattoo parlor Bonney had spontaneously decided to go to in order to get her first tattoo. It probably didn't help that she was high, having smoked a blunt or two (She hadn't kept count…) while she was at the park with Hawkins. She was sitting with her ass sticking up in the air, the tattooist inking a slice of pizza (back lit by green fire) on her left butt cheek. She'd specifically told him to make the pepperoni in the shape of bunnies.

"Ah! Oh, my God! Oh, my God! Eek!" She squeezed her eyes shut, biting on her lower lip for all she was worth. Bad idea. Blood trickled slowly down her chin, dripping onto her arm. Then her phone vibrated in her clenched fist, startling her. She'd been exchanging texts with Perona, talking about her tattoo and the cute tattooist. She checked her phone, expecting another text…However, it wasn't a text, but an incoming call. She blinked at the glowing screen, distracted from the fact that she was getting a tattoo done on her rump. Soon enough, she noticed she was staring like an idiot and rushed to answer, scrambling to place it to her ear. "Hello? …Oh, my God! Eek! My ass! There's a needle in my ass! My fucking ass!"

"…Bonney?"

Bonney paused in her hysterics. "…Law? …I can explain…I think."

"Uh, I don't want to know. Just…I need you to do me a favor," Law answered, sounding a tad anxious. "…Could you come down to the New Age Orphanage?"

"New Age Orphanage? Isn't that where Ace took us when we were hiding from the po-po?" She had forgotten about her tattoo once more, happily engaging in the rather unexpected conversation.

"Huh?"

Bonney reached into her purse lying on the floor next to her perch, pulling out a double cheeseburger and taking a large bite from it. The only thing that purse held was food. Lots of food. Talking through a mouth full of burger, she attempted to get Law to remember, saying, "You know, when Ace blew up that car? In the zoo parking lot?"

There was a long pause before Law answered again. "Yeah, I know. Just hurry. It's important."

"After my tattoo is…Oh, my God! Needle! Needle in my damned ass!"

* * *

_I don't give a shh, no one else can have ya!_

Perona had her headphones in as she occupied a dressing room of Cutie Pie, the clothing store she'd chanced upon a few years back and fallen in love with without delay. She wasn't the only one. She'd often run across others who'd become regulars, much like her. She had piles of clothes surrounding her, some hanging on hangers, some on the bench, some on the chair. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the mirror, holding an item of interest up to the light. It was a long dress, strapless, with pleated layers alternating between lavender and black. She'd plucked it off of the hanger right as another woman had reached for it. Luckily for her, the woman's little girl, who happened to want some attention, had given her enough time to escape the lady, who'd been hell bent on getting a hold of the dress.

She felt her phone vibrate in her lap and, laying the dress on the nearest clothing pile, she grabbed it. It was small, bedazzled pink and white with a little chain dangling from it, a Kumashi charm glinting in the dim lighting. She had been anticipating a text from Bonney, who was high, acting out of the ordinary as she often did when hyped up on drugs, and (unfortunately) getting a tattoo. Instead, it was Law calling. She accepted the call and placed the cell delicately to her ear. "Perona speaking."

"Hey, it's Law. Mind doing me a favor?"

"Depends on what it is." Perona reached over to drag her Love-Love Kumashi purse over to her and dug through it. It didn't have too much in it, just a few makeup articles and her wallet. She came out with Kumashi Sex-Me Scarlet lipstick and her Kumashi Cum-Pact mirror, quickly swiping her lipstick over her lips.

"Come to the New Age Orphanage? Please?"

Perona paused, putting her lipstick back in her purse as she said, "Isn't that where we hid from the cops back when Ace blew up that car?"

"…Yes."

"Hm. Why?" She flipped open her mirror, ignoring the larger one behind her, and checked her eyeliner to be sure it was still nice and black.

"…Perona, it's important."

After smiling and checking her teeth, she snapped her compact mirror shut and sighed. "Fine. But I'm at Cutie Pie right now, so it might take a bit."

* * *

_Don't you worry, don't you worry, child. See, heaven's got a plan for you._

Hawkins was slouched in the bed of his truck, his fingers curled around a bong, and the music from his favorite CD pumping out through the open windows. He was staring up at the stars, wondering where the sun had disappeared to, and asking himself whether it would be back or not. His truck was in the parking lot of the Stemberg Park (a.k.a The Cannabis Plot), where he was least likely to run into authority figures who would actually mind his activities. In fact, the park security guard had once joined in. Since then, he'd retreated to this place, what with its wonderful view of the night sky and the breeze scented with nature.

His cell went off in the waistband of his boxers and, sluggishly, he reached inside his pants to fetch it. He checked the caller ID and closed his eyes, flipping the cheap communication device open. "It's a wonderful night out, is it not, Trafalgar?"

"Well, considering Ace almost got eaten alive and our art teacher threatened to kill me, yeah, sure, it's nice out." Law was using sarcasm, which he knew Hawkins didn't particularly favor.

"It seems you've had quite the adventure. However, that doesn't explain why you contacted me," Hawkins answered, exhibiting patience and calm. He wasn't much more different high than he was all sobered up.

"I need you to come down to the New Age Orphanage. ASAP," Law responded.

"That wouldn't happen to be where we fled when Ace made that car explode, would it?" He still remembered the flames that had poured into the sky that day, along with the cries of the panic and noise of the chaos.

There was a sound, one Hawkins didn't hear much from his friend, but it was shortly followed by, "Yes. It's the same place."

Hawkins opened his eyes, pondering the chances of something interesting happening if he did as Law asked. "…Is Ace with you?"

"…He's nearby…"

"Hm…There's a…ninety nine point nine percent chance of something interesting happening," Hawkins said. "And I don't need my ability to know that."

"…Are you coming or what?" Law questioned, sounding somewhat irate.

"I'll be there shortly."

* * *

_Trouble-troublemaker, yeah. That's your middle name. Oh-oh! I know you're no good but you're stuck in my brain._

"Ah! Mm!"

Kidd was thrusting deep inside someone he'd met at Loyal Cockpit, a gay bar. The twink was nameless as far as the red head was concerned, too busy enjoying the sex, what with the guy moaning and squirming beneath him. They were fucking in the back seat of Kidd's craptastic car, the radio cranked up all the way, along with the voice of his sex partner. Stuffed with alcohol and feel good drugs, neither one minded that they hadn't introduced themselves. Kidd had, after eyeing him with a lustful gaze for a half hour, approached him, kissed him full on the lips, and then dragged him outside to his car. Nothing had needed to be said. They'd silently agreed that words would just get in the way and could wait until after they'd had their fill of each other.

"M-More!" The twink exclaimed, lifting his hips and arching his back as Kidd gave a exceptionally deep and hard thrust.

Leaning closer, the red head bit down on the back of the other's neck. He was so close to the edge. Just a little more. A little more. His hands tightened around the guy's wrists, where Kidd held them against the car door, and the teen groaned around the flesh in his mouth as he pushed deep inside the other and came just as the twink did. It took a moment more for Kidd to ride the orgasm out and another for him to get enough energy to relocate his body. Releasing the guy's wrists and removing his teeth from his neck, Kidd bowed his head for a moment, a shiver ripping up his spine, before pulling out and disposing of the glow-in-the-dark condom he'd used. Slumping back in the seat, Kidd pulled his pants back up around his hips and zipped his fly, all the while watching the twink get all flustered and rush to dress, shout-stammering things Kidd didn't bother to hear. He breathed in the scent of sex and booze, serenity seeming to overflow from him as he continued listening to his music blare. The door opened and closed without Kidd having responded to the other even once.

Slowly, Kidd crawled up into the front seat, checking his phone. He had several texts and missed calls from Law. He muted the radio, frowning, and went to call Law back. Before he could, though, his phone rang and he smiled. Law calling, again. Hoping it was about sex, he accepted the call.

"I was just about to call you back," Kidd said.

"Mhm," Law answered, sounding like he didn't quite believe him. "Whatever. Just come down to the New Age Orphanage."

"Isn't that-"

"Where we hid when Ace blew up that car in the zoo parking lot? Yes." Law ground the words out and Kidd flinched, unsure as to why Law seemed to be short-tempered right at the moment.

"Alright, alright. I'm coming."

* * *

"Thatch."

Thatch lifted his head at Marco's voice, having been busy sifting through the photo albums in the orphanage's library, reminiscing about the days when Ace was a little more innocent. It had been about forty five minutes since the blonde had brought Ace and Ace's friend back to the orphanage. The orphanage medic was currently taking care of the boys' injuries, leaving the family to stew over everything that had happened. Everyone had been updated, thanks to Pops going over the list Marco, Haruta, and Vista had come up with. It consisted of several things that brought Ace's wellbeing into question…Not that anyone had any doubts about how bad that was, anyway. The boy obviously needed help. It was just a matter of being able to help someone who might not want help, of being able to save someone who might not want saving.

"What's up?" Thatch closed the photo album in front of him, pushing it away.

"I…I need to talk to you about Ace. It's all mere speculation on my part, but I'd like a second opinion," Marco answered, coming to sit beside the brunette. He grabbed one of the albums that was on the table and put it in his lap, flipping through the pages, looking but not seeing.

Thatch leaned back against the sofa cushions, watching Marco's hands. The blonde lingered on the pages for a few seconds, seeming to glance over them without really bringing the memories back that went with the photos. That wasn't like him. Marco was the kind of guy who appreciated art and saw meaning in it. This made Thatch curious as to what had been on Marco's mind. "Okay. I'm up for it."

An awkward silence fell over the two of them for a long moment before Marco sighed, looking up from the photos in front of him. "I think Ace might be in love with me."

Thatch's brain stalled, tripping up on the words he'd thought he'd heard from the blonde. He smiled apologetically, running a hand over the back of his head. "Sorry. I didn't really hear you."

"You heard me, Thatch." Marco went back to skimming through the album, barely glancing up from the photos when Thatch turned his body towards him. "And before you ask, yes, I'm being serious. I really do think he loves me."

After hearing that, Thatch relaxed once again, smiling slightly. He placed a hand on Marco's shoulder, squeezing, and chuckling on the inside. "Well, yeah, duh. You're his family, no matter what."

"Not like that." The blonde lifted his eyes to meet Thatch's gaze. "He's _in love _with me. It's not a familial kind of affection."

Thatch pursed his lips for a minute, then muttered, "…Start from the beginning."

Marco grinned, appearing eager for some reason. "Remember how Ace said he had to act like he hated his treasure? Like he didn't want it anymore and all that jazz? Well, he acted like he hated me for the last two years, didn't he?"

"Yeah, but that thing has been with him for the last four years. There's a two year difference," Thatch answered.

"I know. I thought about that, too. But…" The blonde flipped the page in the album,, turning his eyes back down to the photos. He smiled triumphantly, pointing at one of the pictures on the page. "Ah, look here!"

"Hm?" Thatch leaned to take a look, seeing Marco's finger resting under a picture of Ace, Marco, and Doma. Ace looked about fourteen in the picture, his hands wrapped around a smoothie and his lips around a crazy straw. Doma had his arm slung over his shoulders, his pet monkey dangling from his other arm. Marco was off to the side, smiling with his hand on Ace's bicep, but it was obvious that Ace was uncomfortable, his body tilted away from the blonde, positioned more towards Doma, and crinkles of frustration at the corners of his eyes.

"Remember how Ace said he was keeping away from his treasure at first, but it wasn't enough for that thing. He had to hate his treasure. However, he couldn't do it, so, instead, he'd tried his hardest to pretend. Maybe…the play-pretend and the time where Ace would avoid being around his treasure happened in the first two years. Like, it was drawn out and not as sudden as we made it out to be?" Marco flipped back a few pages, eyes roving over the pages. He stopped, his finger running over a picture of Ace and the blonde. In this one, Ace was about thirteen, and he was staring up at Marco with this wide, utterly adoring smile on his face. He had those excited, perceptive glittery grey eyes Thatch remembered him for, a red paper plate in his hold. Marco wasn't looking at the boy, standing in front of a grill, and attending to the steaks there.

"…It's 'cause you have food," Thatch said.

Sighing, Marco turned to another page, his eyes seeming to widen the slightest bit for a second, and then he put his finger to another picture. There Ace was once again, thirteen years old, standing farther into the background than the majority of the people, the crowd parting just right to leave a clear view of the kid. Everyone was watching as Marco introduced one of his girlfriends to the family during Thanksgiving, standing around outside the orphanage. Thatch's brows rose, his eyes widening as he got closer to confirm what he thought he was seeing. He'd never seen such an expression of unadulterated hatred on Ace's face. It was actually kind of terrifying, the expression like nothing he'd ever seen, the kid's lips curled into a snarl of loathing. The soda bottle in his hand was crushed, fluffy white bubbles and an bright orange liquid spilling out onto the floor. But it was the look in his eyes that Thatch was stuck on. That hint of an evil killing intent…Even when Ace was doing some heavy hating on the blonde, it wasn't that chilling. …And Ace was glaring straight at the slim, cute ginger hanging onto Marco.

"Shit," Thatch muttered. He snatched the album from him, dragging it into his own lap, and flipping through, looking for pictures of Ace. He could see the proof right before his eyes. If Marco was in the picture, Ace was looking in that direction with a glow to his expression and a sparkle to his eyes. After seeing the look so often, Thatch could even tell if Marco was in the area, whether he was in the photo or not. But the older Ace got, the more stressed he became around the blonde, shifting closer to someone else, turning away, sliding his eyes to the side. He could literally see the downhill battle in the photos. Ace's eyes lost their vivacity and his smiles lost their sincerity. "Is this even good news, Marco?"

"Well, I figure that if we know what his treasure is, then we can help him." The blonde took the album back, taking a look at Ace's visible downward spiral for himself. "Only…it feels weird. Like, really weird. I've found myself silently hoping that I'm wrong 'cause it's just that…awkward."

"If you're going to talk to Ace about this, I'm begging you…please…just please get accustomed to it first. I don't want you going to him and telling him shit like that," Thatch said. "If he's had a crush on you for so long, then it'll break his heart to hear you turn him down. Especially with something as flimsy as 'it's awkward' or, you know, whatever."

Marco frowned, sighing. "But, if that thing's haunting him because of his feelings for me, wouldn't it be better to solve things sooner?"

"Yeah, but turning him down so suddenly, no warning whatsoever, would kill him…or make him kill himself. Basically, the same thing," Thatch explained, closing the album while Marco wasn't looking at it. He pulled it from his lap and put it on the table, his fingers dragging slowly over the leatherback as he sat back again. "Listen, bro…I don't mean to make things harder. Honest. I'm just being…well…honest. Try to think about it from his point of view. In your haste to get rid of his affections, you might just end up causing more harm than good."

"I'm not trying to get rid of his affections." Marco glanced over at him, his eyes portraying frustration. "I tried to put myself in his shoes, Thatch. But…he's my little brother and that's pretty much impossible for me to wrap my head around. I figure if I get past that, I can follow through with a plan, instead of always second guessing myself and saying I'm doing the wrong thing. However, the problem is I keep thinking 'incest' and it seriously bothers me. Even if we're not blood related…I still think of him as my little brother. And don't you dare tell me not to think of him as family. I'll kick your ass."

"I wasn't going to," Thatch answered, raising his hands in a placating gesture. "In fact, that's the last thing I'd want you to do. Instead, think of him as more than just a brother. Think of him as a potential lover, too."

"I'm straight," Marco muttered. "And that won't do anything about the whole 'incest' deal. Hell, it'll probably make things worse. I'd feel guilty for thinking about Ace like that. It's wrong...Sinful. What perverts do."

"How do you think Ace has been feeling? If what you say is true, then all that stuff he said about being sick and twisted has to do with his feelings for you. So, right now, you're pretty much saying that that's how he's supposed to feel about it." The brunette paused, seeing Marco's conflicted expression. "Well, if you want to talk to him about it, you really have to know what to say. You can't go to him thinking that it's wrong for you to think of your brother as a lover but it's alright for him to do it."

Marco sighed, seeming not-so-excited now that he was really talking about it. "That's not the only issue. What about him being my student and our age difference? And I'm _still _straight. Despite all this talking about going over to the dark side."

"Dark s-? Never mind. I'll leave it be." Thatch shook his head, smiling. "Anyway, remember that video of Apoo's? Yeah, well, do you perhaps remember what Ace said when Eustass asked him about having sex with you? Don't worry if you don't. 'Cause I remember. He said you were like a brother to him. You're his teacher. And you're like twice his age. Now, Marco, be rational about this. He's had _years _to sit and think about this. He's likely thought of a ton of problems that haven't occurred to you. The more you come up with, the more you say they make a relationship between the two of you wrong and sinful, the more likely you're going to confirm his thoughts on the matter. He'll believe that it's right for him to feel like a piece of crap about something he 'tried his hardest to hate' but couldn't hate. Remember what he said? You wrote it down yourself, Marco. Do you think he should hate himself for something he can't help?"

The blonde groaned, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. "No. Of course not. I want him to be happy. I don't think there's anything wrong with him, even knowing he has a crush on me. It's just…It's me, Thatch. I can't do something like that with him. No matter how hard I try to not think ill of it…I can't rewire myself."

"If that's the truth, then it should be all the easier for you to understand why Ace thinks of himself as something twisted. He's in love with you, but he hates himself for it. He thinks it's wrong and, yet, he can't stop loving you." Thatch placed a hand on Marco's shoulder, trying to comfort him, knowing that it must be hard to deal with something like that. He couldn't imagine how he himself would react in that situation. Probably just like Marco. And, hopefully, Marco would try to make things better by saying these things. "It shouldn't be hard to put yourself in his shoes, bro. And, the sooner you do that, the sooner you'll know how to handle the situation. Until then, I'd prefer you don't speak recklessly around Ace. …Maybe you should try flirting with him? That would be fun to watch. I'm laughing on the inside just thinking about it."

Marco's hands fell from his face and he stood, exhaling loudly, clearly ignoring Thatch's last suggestion. "…Do me a solid?"

"What is it?"

Marco went to the door of the library, opening it, then tried to fake a smile over his shoulder, instead coming off looking exhausted. "Don't tell the others."

Thatch nodded in agreement and stood, intending on leaving the photo albums behind. He'd end up looking through all of them for pictures of Ace just to solidify what he was already certain of. A waste of time in his opinion. As he joined Marco at the door, he heard footsteps approaching. Izo ran around the corner, coming down the hall.

"Ace's friends are here…and they're interesting, to say the least," the cross dresser said, seeming a tad uncomfortable.

Thatch and Marco exchanged glances, both taking Izo's word for it. When a cross dresser tells you someone's interesting, you better believe them. They're likely not joking. But Thatch had met most of Ace's friends before and was a bit surprised that Izo was saying that. They were a little eccentric but not enough so to get Izo to think they were weird. Huffing out a breath, Thatch gestured for Marco to go first, following behind him silently and hoping that everything would go smoothly. He should have known better.

At the entrance stood several kids he'd seen in school. They were clustered together, all goofy smiles and cheerful voices. Then Thatch smelled it. Marijuana, cigarette smoke, alcohol, sweat, arousal, perfume, junk food…A bunch of other things that made him want to turn around and forget ever seeing them. But Marco had promised to get them all help. There was no saving Ace without saving them. And, on top of that, they were his students…

"Okay, you guys reek. No offense," he said, his own personal style of greeting. One of the girls made to protest but the blonde teen planted a firm hand on her head, effectively quieting her. Jozu, who was off to the side, almost certainly keeping his distance from the cloud of odor that surrounded the group, snorted and rolled his eyes at Thatch's comment. Haruta peeked around the main room's door sill half of a grin visible. Thatch wasn't the only one who didn't like the smell. He could see Marco's nose was crinkling up slightly and his eyes had tightened around the corners.

There were four of them. Two girls and two guys. He knew one guy and one girl. Both girls had bright pink hair, but, other than gender, they didn't seem to have much else in common. He knew Jewelry Bonney. The other one he'd seen around, but he didn't have a class with her. He didn't know whether to be thankful or not.

The unknown girl's hair was in thick, spiral braids down her back and her eyes were big and black, bordered with long, clumpy lashes and shimmering eye shadow. She had a girlish face, shiny red lipstick, and a pale complexion. She wore a short, frilly black skirt with a red leather belt across her hips, and a white sweater with black stripes that hung loosely off of her shoulders, just a few inches too short to cover her entire belly. She had on a ton of silver rings, an expensive looking watch, and clunky Goth boots with weird buckles. The buckles kind of reminded him of the large, overstuffed purse she carried at her side. Like a teddy bear that had been patched up a few times, a blue and white hat on top of its head and a doctor's mask across its muzzle.

Bonney wasn't much like her, not as girly. She had a purse similar in size to the other girl's, but it was pale green with golden straps. Her white tee was cropped, baring her midriff, and her short shorts were held up by thin suspenders. She didn't seem to have done anything special with her hair. Just combed it. She wore a green beret and brown combat boots. A little pink lip gloss, but otherwise, no makeup. Nothing else.

Then there was the blonde and Kidd.

The blonde was as tall as Kidd, with black triangles tattooed over his forehead, the base of the triangles taking the place of his eyebrows. He had long, wavy golden hair and a cross tattooed on his throat. His appearance was kind of intimidating, a defined nose, high cheekbones, and those unreadable red eyes. He wore what looked to be a…white yukata over a pair of dark purple pajama pants tucked into black bean boots. Thatch had also seen him at school, a few times, but he'd seemed almost normal back then. Nothing too out of this world. He was beginning to think they all changed dramatically once school was out for the day. The blonde one might have been his living, breathing proof.

Kidd stood beside him in fit green and yellow plaid pants and black military boots, an elaborate brown fur coat thrown on top. He was topless otherwise. He also wore dark reddish purple lipstick. However, that was the only bit of makeup Thatch could see, unless the dark circles under his eyes were actually some new teen trend he hadn't heard about. His flaming red hair was messier than usual, falling about in his face, and appearing to piss him off more than anything else.

After staring at the unusual assemblage, the brunette turned to the art teacher next to him, cocking a brow in silent question. Marco shook his head, touching a finger to his nose. Glancing back at the students once more, Thatch shook his head, and muttered, "They don't seem so…remarkable…at school."

Marco pursed his lips for a moment and then neared them, having more guts than Thatch had given him credit for. "Right. Law and Ace are in the sickbay. Follow me."

"Sickbay? Who says that anymore?" This was the unknown chick who had spoken up and her voice seriously grated on Thatch's nerves.

"An ex-pirate," Thatch responded, seeing as how Marco, the calm and reasonable type most days (the kind who didn't want to watch people split their britches), didn't seem inclined to tell her.

"Thatch," the art teacher warned quietly, his hand landing on the doorknob of the sickbay. He didn't open the door until Thatch was standing beside him, chuckling softly. The chuckles tapered off when everyone got an eye full of Law draped over Ace's lap, sucking face, and Ace's arms tight around the other's thin figure.

Thatch jammed his elbow in Marco's side, unwilling to interrupt the boys himself. Not after that talk earlier. He wanted to see Marco step up and do something. He wanted to know how the blonde would react to Ace with another guy now that Marco was having ideas about who Ace loved.

Marco glared hotly at the brunette but, gritting his teeth, he ground out, "That's hot."

The group trailing after them burst into laughter, Law scrambling to separate himself from Ace, who's upper body was covered in pristine white bandages. The boy was smiling along with the rest of them (excluding Trafalgar, who was pink in the cheeks) right up until Marco stepped further into the room. Ace's smile dropped off and his eyes were everywhere but on the blonde. When compared to Ace's previous reactions, back when he was 'hating' Marco (though he still was…only they had information that would help them see through him if he was just pretending), this wasn't as bad. No scowling or name calling. Definitely an improvement.

"Wow, Ace," Kidd commented, pointing to the bandages. "What did you do and why wasn't I invited?"

Ace's grin came back just like that. "Nothing big."

Law sat on the very end of the cot, avoiding touching Ace's foot, which was prodding him in the thigh. "Nothing big meaning almost being eaten alive."

Bonney strode into the room, her steps a little unsteady, but she slouched with her belly stretched over Ace's knees. "Really? Shouldn't you be, like, sleeping it off?"

"If the doc asks, I was resting," Ace answered, smirking when snickers resounded through the sick bay.

* * *

**_Hey, guys, if you're going to review...I'd be happy to hear what you think everyone's addictions are going to be. Maybe you could even tell me what in the story gave it away. Some of the things are there purposefully, but some I might not have even noticed. But don't feel pressed to review just because of little old me. :)_**


	12. Kill Me Now

Marco sighed, closing the door to the sick bay behind him, the noise from the teens chatting cutting off as it clicked shut. The family had decided earlier on to let all of them get comfortable before telling them why Law had called them down here. The orphanage's psychiatrists were in their offices and Marco would have to stop by to ask them when they were ready to talk to the teens. And how they would go about doing it. The orphanage had three medics, two psychiatrists, six cooks, and four preschool teachers. Pops' took good care of the kids here by providing them with everything they could need, physically or mentally. It wasn't easy being an orphan and the little things could help make the kids feel more at ease just as much as the big things.

"So, how do you feel?"

"Hm?" Marco glanced up to see Thatch watching him like he expected the blonde to throw a temper tantrum. "…Fine. I feel fine. Why?"

A disappointed look crossed the other's face before he turned away. "Oh… That's… Depressing, man."

The art teacher just shook his head, walking off in the direction of the psychiatrists' offices. They were right across from each other in the west wing. The orphanage was a lot more like a vacation manor than an orphanage. It had forty bedrooms for the children, two beds for each. There was an indoor swimming pool, an art room, a music room, a cafeteria, a nursery (in a portion of the east wing, separated from the children's hall), a gym (for basketball, volleyball, ping pong, dance, etc.), a library (with twenty computers), a theater, and more. Marco took pride in the orphanage, not only because his paintings were displayed in various rooms, but because he helped draw up the blueprint for the building. And he'd been the one Pops had turned to when they'd needed to design the interior and the blonde had been more than happy to do it for him. He had connections in the world of interior designing and they'd came in handy lots of times over the years.

"Are you sure you're fine?" Thatch asked, keeping pace beside him. "You don't feel anything? Even after all we talked about?"

"Doubt that I was right about Ace," Marco admitted, daring a glance over at Thatch, who was glowering at his feet. "What do you want me to say? That I'm angry? Jealous? That I feel like I should run back in there and beat the living hell out of someone?"

The brunette tilted his head to the side, his hand coming up to touch his pompadour hairstyle gently, lovingly. "Well, yeah. That'd be great, actually."

The art teacher's brow twitched, a twinge of annoyance racing through him. He made sure Thatch knew he didn't like his response by shooting him a glare. "Why do you want me to want Ace? He's just as much your brother as he is mine."

"Because I can't see him getting any better if you reject him. I figure no means no, no matter how pretty you dress it up or how much you play it down," Thatch answered, being completely honest as he was apt to do in serious situations. Not that it made Marco feel any better. Worse if anything.

"But earlier you said…"

"Said what? I never once said I didn't want you to be with Ace. And I can't force you to give Ace a chance." Thatch grinned, stopping in front of a door, and Marco stopped with him. "I only advised you to think before you act. To put yourself in his shoes before doing anything rash."

Marco stared at him for a long moment, thinking over what it was the brunette was really saying. Or, at least, how it was coming across. "So, you want me to give up on my love life in order for Ace to be happy? Even if it makes me miserable?"

"I want both Ace and you to be happy. You know that," Thatch said, taking on a scolding tone and the blonde was a little irritated that he was talking to him like that. It had always been Marco having to reprimand Thatch, never the other way around.

"I doubt I could be happy being ass fucked every night. Hell, I doubt I can bring myself to let Ace do that to me in the first place, no matter what the circumstances," Marco grumbled, feeling a little awkward with the conversation. It wasn't often that he'd talked to Thatch about something like this…Actually, it had never happened before and it wasn't pleasant. It was embarrassing.

"Didn't Ace's friend say something about Ace never having been the, uh, receiver in bed before? Maybe, if you think about it in a way that makes you the pitcher, you'll have better luck with it." Thatch turned to head back towards the front of the orphanage. "I'll leave it alone if you would only just try. Even if the outcome isn't pretty."

"Yeah, right. Ace would never let me," Marco mumbled, shaking his head.

"You won't know unless you try," Thatch called back.

* * *

"Hello, my name is Dr. Push and this is Dr. Willoughby."

Marvel smiled amicably at the teens as Pull introduced him, lifting his fingers in a lazy wave. The girl with bloodshot purple eyes waved back at him enthusiastically from her spot on Ace's cot, grinning gleefully with a chicken strip held in her slim hand. The chicken disappeared through her pink lips half a moment later. There was another person in the room with bloodshot eyes. The blonde boy with the tattoos. It wasn't the first time Marvel had seen a person on drugs. There was always a story behind addiction. He'd heard a lot of them. Being a psychiatrist sort of gave him access to those stories. He was curious how all of these kids had developed addictions and what they're addictions were. He was always curious. Being able to analyze people was something he loved about his job. Helping them get back on track, however, was what he loved most.

Pull continued speaking, her voice calm and strong. "Now, I don't want to frighten anyone, but we are going to talk to each of you in another room. Ace, we will be speaking to you later, seeing as how Twiggy said you should be resting for the time being."

Ace's brows rose, his expression skeptical. "…And why is it you want to speak with us?"

"Don't worry, Ace. It's just a few questions. We want to get to know everyone before we make any further decisions," Pull told him, smiling reassuringly.

Pull was a reasonable, upright woman. She had silken hair the color of chocolate with vibrant autumn orange tips, styled into gentle waves framing her face. She was an attractive lady adorned with dark brown eyes, pouty lips, a tip-tilted nose, and adorable dimples. At the moment, she was wearing a bright red suit jacket and a sky blue bow tie, along with a white knee-length pressed skirt.

"What kind of decisions?" the red-headed teen asked. He was sitting on the end of the cot, his side pressed up against a smaller, thinner boy's back. He seemed comfortable where he was at while the other looked like he wanted to run and hide.

"Well, we'll discuss that after everyone has answered the questions," Marvel replied. "But, no matter how unpleasant the questions are, please be honest."

"That's not a good sign," the red-headed teen muttered to the others, frowning. "I don't like where this is going."

"Law, you never did explain why you called us down here…" the blonde boy pointed out, the surrounding teens turning to the aforementioned boy in silence.

"Now, now. Everything will be explained, just give us a while longer," Marvel said, trying to get them to calm down. If they got too riled up, it would be impossible to get reliable information out of them.

Pull glanced down at the clipboard in hand, tapping her pen next to some writing. When she looked up again, she was smiling encouragingly. "Law, is it? Would you mind stepping outside with us?"

The slim boy tensed before slowly slipping off the cot, his Adam's apple bobbing as he approached them. Marvel let Pull lead the way out, following after her, and trusting the teen to follow after him. The door shut quietly behind the three of them, the corridor empty, the muffled sounds of the ones inside the sick bay leaking out.

Pull lead them down the hall, guiding them to the nearby study, where they settled into comfy chairs. "Where did you get your name, if I may ask?"

Law's eyes darted between the two of them, showing some surprise and concern. "Um, well, I never asked my parents about it, so I can only speculate."

"Oh," Pull said, nodding. She leaned back in her seat, crossing her legs delicately, all ladylike. The clipboard was resting in her lap in a way that made it possible for Marvel to see the list of names it bore.

Marvel flicked his eyes back to Law's, meeting those brown eyes of his without flinching. The boy was very conflicted about this mess, but seemed to be trying to tough it out. "If I may be so rude as to ask, but were you an orphan once upon a time?"

"I…still am." Law dropped his gaze back to his lap, where he fiddled with a rubber band that had likely been in his pocket.

"Do tell," Pull urged, giving him her full attention.

The boy bit on his lip for a moment before beginning hesitantly with, "I was…left on this island when…I was nine. I didn't come to this orphanage. Instead, I hiked out to the woods and…found home in the Drum Rockies. I've been living there ever since."

Marvel got the feeling that Law was skipping a crucial part of the story. He wasn't saying everything he thought. Not wanting to scare the teen off, he chose not to push on the matter. At least, not directly. "How is it possible for you to attend school? Did someone take you in?"

"Um, Ace. Money can go a long way…I have an education because of him," the teen said, a tone of affection and admiration entering his voice. But his expression fell and he stared down at the floor, shame flashing across his face for a moment. "Not that I'm making good use of it."

This seemed to have peaked Pull's interest and she leaned forward again, elbows on her knees and clipboard pressed to her chest. She always had this kind, open expression when in a session with a patient. It helped to calm people down and get them to talk freely. "How did you meet him?"

Law faltered once more, unable to meet Marvel's questioning gaze. It was interesting how the boy was so closed off, not wanting to tell anyone anything, whether it was considered casual information or not. "I went for a walk and bumped into him."

"Did you become friends just like that?" Pull had taken over for the time being, letting Marvel sit aside and observe. Analyze. When it came to that, he was much more skilled than she was. He was practiced in reading another's body language.

"No." Law sat there quietly for a moment, stubbornly attempting to ignore it when Pull gestured for more. It didn't take long for him to give in, sighing. "I tried to kill him. But then a bunch of rabid mega rabbits came out of nowhere and wanted to eat us. We had to work together to stay alive and, after that, I decided there wasn't any real reason to kill him. From that day forth, he would come searching for me every so often."

"And then you became friends?"

The teen nodded, once again trying to beat Pull at the silent game. He broke a few minutes later, giving in once more and scowling. "Yeah, we did. He would bring his brothers over and entertain me. It was fun, so, of course, I ended up liking him. Got a problem with that?"

Pull shook her head calmly, lifting a hand with her fingers spread to show she wasn't picking a fight with him. It was likely the last thing on her mind. She was just as curious about others as Marvel was. "Was there anyone before Ace?"

"You mean, did I ever meet anyone before him? Yeah. Bepo." The teen picked at the hem of his shirt. He had neat fingernails, clean and short. It wasn't something you'd expect from someone who was addicted to drugs. Most drug users stopped caring about hygiene after a while. However, drugs always had unusual effects on devil fruit users. All of the teens were likely lacking the normal signs of abuse. Still, there was an obvious one right in front of them. The needle marks at the junction of the boy's arm.

"And this Bepo didn't adopt you?" Marvel asked, jumping back into the conversation.

"No. He's younger than me," Law answered bluntly.

"Mhm. Alright, then…Law, what exactly is your addiction?" Pull asked, leaning back into her seat once more. "From what I understand, everyone in your group has an addiction of some kind. You wouldn't mind telling us about yours, would you?"

The teen shook his head lightly, running his fingers through his scruffy hair. He didn't appear to know quite what to say without coming right out and saying it. Sighing, Law glanced up at them, muttering, "Heroin."

Pull slowly nodded, jotting that down next to the boy's name on her clipboard. The scritch-scratch sound from the tip of the pencil filled the room for a long moment, then she looked up again. "And how bad is this addiction?"

"Bad."

Marvel sighed, interjecting with, "Give us an example. Like, do you take it every Tuesday and Thursday? Is it once a week or once a day? Do you have a certain schedule you like to follow?"

"…The first thing I think about in the morning is my fix. I get it after breakfast. Once lunch rolls around, I'm in the bathroom, sometimes with Ace or Kidd, snorting up my stash. As soon as school ends, I'm hurrying out to my van for another hit. At home, I'm usually able to get in two or three injections before I go to sleep. I prefer the needle to the powder, but I'll snort if I don't have any other option. I usually do it about five or six times a day. On weekends, I'm either bending my heroin around my schedule or my heroin _is _my schedule," Law answered, seeming to have finally thought 'screw it, let's get this over with' and actually gave them an honest, detailed response.

"And how did this addiction start?" Marvel asked quietly.

"Well, I went to a party about two years ago where the punch was spiked. I ended up getting sloshed all to hell and back. I passed out drunk and, when I came to, I was…uh, handcuffed to a bed. There was some guy with me. When I asked him to get the cuffs off, he told me to sit tight and shot me up with heroin." Law paused, his brows drawing together. "Anyways, Ace found me after a while and got me out of that place. Ever since, heroin's been my go-to drug, and Hawkins is willing enough to give it to me. For a price. But drugs don't come free."

"Hn. Alright," Pull mumbled, pushing out of her seat. "Let's head back. We need to talk to Bonney next."

* * *

"How are you today, Bonney?"

The teen glanced over at Marvel, a large smile plastered to her face. "I'm high."

"I can see that," he responded, the corners of his lips tilting up almost imperceptibly with his unheard laughter. Pull, sitting over in her chair, couldn't help but chuckle. She flicked her gaze over Marvel, who was lounging in his own seat, cloaked with a certain air of reliability and perspicacity. His emerald green eyes glinted inquisitively behind wire-framed glasses as he scrutinized the unsuspecting girl.

"My ass hurts," the girl blurted, still with that comical grin.

A rather loud, unladylike snort escaped Pull and Marvel cocked a blonde brow at her, his amusement made evident through that single shift in his expression. Choosing not to respond to his unsubtle, inquiring silence, she went back to observing the girl. Bonney was stroking her fingers gently over the supple leather of the wingchair she was settled in. She seemed to be easily distracted right at the moment. And cheerful.

"Bonney?" Marvel said, getting her attention.

"Yes, Mr. Doctor-Man?" There was a childish lilt to her voice, along with a mild slur, her hands tightening on the edge of the chair cushion as she leaned forward, toward the blonde psychiatrist.

He pursed his lips for a moment, displaying a dislike for her response. "I'm going to be blunt with you, dear."

Her eyes widened slightly and she leaned forward some more. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," he answered, closing his eyes. "What kind of drugs do you take?"

"Gee, man, I don't know. A lot, I'd say." She frowned, suddenly flopping back into the chair. "…We all share our goodies. Not our food, but our goodies. All a dude's gotta do is ask."

"What do you tend to favor, out of everything?" Pull said as Marvel opened his mouth, likely to say something similar. "Something you can't go without, Bonney?"

"My drugs," she chirped, giggling.

"And…what exactly are your drugs?" Pull poised her pencil over the line next to Bonney's name on her clipboard.

"Well, I've been switching around with 'em lately, so I can't tell you for sure which ones I'm using now," she said.

Pull's gaze narrowed. "And why are you switching your drugs around?"

"My top brands have stopped working for me, so I need somethin' stronger." The girl plucked her hat from her head, tugging on it.

"And what do your drugs do for you?" Marvel questioned, resting his chin on a raised fist. He had the kind of eyes Pull often tried to mimic, ones that could easily convince a person that their secrets were safe with him. His lanky figure was obscured in loose blue jeans and a dark grey tee, morphing his body in a way that made him look less threatening. Now, if only someone could get him to shave off that damned goatee, then he just might look like enough of a professional for people to stop doubting his abilities.

"Well, they help me go to sleep at night." Bonney plopped her hat back on her head, grinning and finally giving them the information they wanted. "I've had a big appetite for the longest time. But, when I hit puberty, it skyrocketed. The hunger pain kept me up at night, no matter how much I ate. The lack of sleep interfered with my learning ability. So, I started taking Nyquil every night to help put me to sleep. After a while, the hunger pains just got worse and I couldn't fall asleep. I went to Hawkins and he hooked me up with a lot of other things to put me out, like morphine. As long as it makes me drowsy enough to forget the pain for a while, I'll do it."

"…So, narcotics, painkillers, and the such?" Pull asked, just to be sure.

"Mhm," Bonney readily replied, grinning.

"So, you have a big appetite?" Marvel inquired from his seat, clearly eyeing the girl's figure. "I find it hard to believe."

"Actually, I'm hungry right now," she answered, leaning over and reaching into her purse, which was on the floor at her feet. When the purse opened, Pull saw a bunch of food inside of it, and, hesitating, she added a few notes beside Bonney's name on the clipboard. "I love food. It's awesome."

"Do you have any ideas why you would have such a big appetite?" Pull questioned carefully, trying not to flinch as Bonney stuffed a handful of fries into her mouth.

"Well, I was home schooled for a long time and I had no one to play with but an old lady, uh, my nanny, so I got bored a lot. I'd eat when I was bored, which was all the time. Then dinner would roll around and I'd get in trouble if I didn't finish all my food, so I had to eat, then, too. Eating all day, every day was something I got used to," Bonney explained, then shoved more fries into her mouth. "Or, at least, that's what my nanny said it was all about. I think it's my genes. …Hey, I've got a nice pair of jeans…but I can't show you right now. They're at home."

"…So, technically, during the day you're addicted to food? And, at night, you're addicted to drugs?" Marvel questioned.

"Yeah. But why do you guys want to know?"

Marvel slowly stood, smiling down at her. "We'll clear that up later. For now, we'll take you back to your friends."

* * *

"Kidd, correct?" Pull said, smiling tenderly.

"Yeah. What's it to you?" the redheaded teen snapped back, glowering at her.

Sighing, Marvel put a hand to his forehead and just rubbed at the headache sprouting above his right eye. He could already tell Kidd was the type to do the opposite of what you asked him to do, all just to spite you. Marvel really didn't like these types. He could stand them, because he knew that every occupation has its pros and its cons, and he understood that people usually had a reason for acting a certain way. Maybe, during their childhood, they didn't have a good relationship with their parents, so they acted out to get attention, deliberately causing mayhem wherever the chance presented itself, and the disobedient child they'd disguised themselves as became habit. Maybe they had a family member who liked to go out and get wasted, often coming back unconscious on a pal's shoulder or sleeping the night away in a jail cell. The kind of family member who would act like a backstabber and a coward at the worst of times, selling out his companions to save his own hide and cowering in the laundry room while the police questioned the kid, who'd become so used to the authorities visiting that he'd know them by name. Exposure to something of that nature would turn a kid sour, making him see the worst in people, and eventually the child would become cynical and begin putting up invisible barriers between himself and those around him. The barriers would often be reinforced with a bad attitude and a foul mouth. But enough speculation, Marvel decided. He wanted answers, and having encountered Kidd's type before, he knew better than to try to slowly gain his trust. That would take too much time. Time they didn't have. If he was going to help this boy get clean, then he needed the boy to open up a little. Doing the unexpected meant Kidd wouldn't have a prepared response.

"Kidd, what are you addicted to?"

"Marvel!" Pull exclaimed, her head snapping around so that she could glare heatedly at him.

"Oh…So that's what this is all about." Kidd's maroon lips tilted upwards at the corners, his golden eyes brightening. "So, it's not really about us, is it? It's for Ace, right? You don't care about the rest of us. You're just acting like you do because you want us to cooperate. For Ace's sake."

"I became a psychiatrist because I want to help people," Marvel told him, his voice sharp. "Yes, I love Ace. He's my little brother. But, the moment you sat down, you became one of my patients, whether you like it or not. And I want to help my patients. All of them, whether their poor and dying or rich and spoilt."

"…It was Law, wasn't it? I knew he was a weasel, but never did I expect him to tattle," the redhead grumbled, scowling. "…Well…You wanted to know my addiction, right? I'm addicted to sex, no strings attached. And preferably while I'm hyped up on ecstacy, which I need another hit of because my high is already gone."

As Kidd stood, Pull jotted down the information on the clipboard, before pointing the eraser of her pencil at him. "Please sit down, sir."

The boy's brow ticked with obvious annoyance, but he slowly lowered himself back in his seat. "What do you want from me, now?"

Pull glanced over at Marvel, indicating for him to take over. He nodded his ascent and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and merely pondered for a moment, staring at Kidd. The fur coat looked authentic and expensive, but Marvel had seen something similar at a pawn shop once. For fifteen bucks. The boots were slightly scuffed around the toes, like he tended to kick things, and the strings looked worn in, not like the ones that came with new shoes. Those remained a little stiff and were nice and bright for a while, before they got dirtied and were twisted around enough to become limp. Rich people didn't like to look 'worn-in' or anything of that nature. Considering that, the boy was either poor, therefore the second of the aforementioned scenarios was much more likely, or the boy was rich and unusual. If he were a rich boy, then his parents probably didn't pay enough attention to him and he became a rebellious child in that manner. If he were a poor boy, the much more apt of the possible state of affairs, then his attitude and his addiction would have developed from the prospective ménage he was exposed to. With that in mind, Marvel chose his next course of action.

"What's your relationship with your dad?" Marvel questioned before adding, "And I'm asking you to be honest and open while speaking with us. Provide details you normally wouldn't tell others."

Kidd pursed his lips, his eyes narrowing. "My father's dead."

Marvel took note of the word 'father' for future reference. It showed a lack of a true connection, an affectionate bond. It was much more stilted than the casual 'dad' that Marvel himself had thrown out there. True, this formal reference of a parent could be blamed on being brought up in a wealthy household, but, until proof was presented to counteract his assumption, Marvel was going to continue working with the second scenario held in the forefront of his mind. He lifted his hand and gestured for Kidd to provide more on the matter. He wasn't worried about offending the redhead seeing as the boy didn't seem to have much love for the topic of conversation, anyway.

The teen sighed loudly, rolling his eyes skyward. "Fine. He died of alcohol poisoning, unsurprisingly, about four and a half years ago. I didn't get along with him much, so I guess that's why I just don't care."

"And when he was alive, is there anything that he did often that got on your nerves?"

"Yeah. He came home drunk and either passed out somewhere in the house or got violent with my mom. She was too scared of him to leave him. It damn well pissed me the fuck off," Kidd hissed, finally seeming to get into the session. He was glaring, but not at either of the psychiatrists before him. No, it was a memory that had him making such a face. Still, he kept talking, his expression darkening with each passing word, his voice deep and threatening. "Whenever I asked her why she married him in the first place, she would tell me that he wasn't always like that. And, after she died, he only got worse. Instead of just going out getting drunk, he'd bring all these drugged-up girls back with him and have sex anywhere he happened to fall with them. The floor, the couch, the kitchen counter. Anywhere. Sometimes he would keep them around for days and waste the money I worked my ass off for, hoping to pay the rent for the month. He used it to get drugs to keep the girls from coming back to their senses. He'd even occasionally get some to come back with him willingly, amazing as that sounds. He disgusted me; the women disgusted; they were all sickening to look at. Lying around naked, with their legs spread for that fucker."

Marvel remained quiet, watching Kidd with sad eyes. It was horrible to think a child had to see such things. But the teen's rant wasn't over, which was a good thing. Marvel wanted him to spill as much as possible before reeling himself back in. It was bound to happen sooner or later and Kidd was bound to scold himself for losing himself in the moment when it did happen.

"What really disgusts me is that I go around and fuck any guy who spreads his legs for me. I like to get drunk. I'm temperamental. I waste money on feel-good drugs all the time. I'm no better than my father. When my aunt gets the guts up to confront me, I end up breaking something and then running out again to do God knows what." Kidd hopped to his feet, his hands clenched in fists, and he began pacing before them. "And I've been doing this shit since my father died. I hated him. I hated him _so damn much_. So, after his funeral, which I didn't willingly attend, I went out to get drunk in celebration of his passing. I was happy he was finally gone. I wouldn't have to deal with him anymore. …I started drinking a lot. That led up to sex. Wanting better sex, I started on feel-good drugs. But I don't want your help, doc. If I try hard enough, I can stop myself. No need for some therapist to get involved."

Pull made a soft sound of protest in the back of her throat, her eyes sliding up from her clipboard to flicker over the redhead's broad back.

Kidd paused, snapping his mouth closed as he whirled around to scowl balefully at Marvel and Pull. "I've given you all the information you could possibly want about my addiction and my father. Can I go, now?"

Marvel smiled, bobbing his head in a slight nod. "Yeah."

* * *

"Perona, please have a seat," Pull said, giving another one of her smiles, the ones she felt she tirelessly produced for others.

The girl examined the two psychiatrists before her, then carefully placed her rump on the edge of the seat across from them. She placed her hands daintily in her lap, frowning slightly. "I already know what you're going to ask."

"Oh, really?" Marvel said, his brows rising.

"Yes, really. Bonney has a big mouth when she's high. She told us everything while you were interrogating Kidd," Perona explained. "But…Law convinced us to show some cooperation, even if we don't intend to stop whatever we're addicted to. According to Bonney, you're asking us about our addictions. Am I right?"

"Yeah, you're right," Marvel muttered. "So?"

The teen reached inside her overstuffed purse and, oddly, dragged out a few items of clothing before stuffing them back in. "Jet and shoplifting. Those are the only addictions I have. I don't smoke or drink, not like the others do. And, yeah, I have sex occasionally. But not as often as Kidd."

"…Jet is…ketamine, is it not?" Pull questioned.

"Yeah," Marvel confirmed. "It's similar to PCP, only not as potent. It's used as a human anesthesia and in some medicines for animals. Most of the black market's supply of jet was rerouted from veterinary buildings."

"Is that all?" Perona asked from her seat, her fingers tightening around her purse.

"No, actually, we also want to know how the addiction started," Pull replied, calmly writing down the information.

"Fine. Ketamine is a date-rape drug and, about two years ago, some weirdo tried to use it on me while I was drinking at a bar with Hawkins. Hawkins left me to go smoke a few joints in the bathroom. I was drugged and Hawkins beat the shit out of the guy when he found him trying to strip me in the back alley. I had a bad week a few months after that and remembered how it felt. I went to Hawkins 'cause I knew he'd be able to get me the drug I want. He's good like that. After that, every time I'd have a rough day, I'd just chat up Hawkins and everything would be better," Perona said, taking a breath. "It became an addiction. And I shoplift because I can't afford new clothes all the time. New clothes make me feel better. Prettier. Buy a few of the cheaper clothes, steal what I don't have the money for. If I see something I want, I take it. I don't wait until I have more money or until it goes on sale. I get it when I see it."

"And you didn't tell your parents that you were almost raped?" Pull asked quietly, eyeing the girl studiously.

"My mom ditched us when I was four. My dad works the nightshift as a dancer for a gay bar. When he's home, he's too busy rehearsing to pay me any mind," the pink-haired teen confessed bitterly. "It's always been that way."

"Hm." Pull leaned back in her seat, her brow furrowed. Marvel frowned, meeting her eyes. Pull knew he didn't like that the teens knew beforehand that they were asking them about their addictions. That meant that they could come up with a story and hide what they really were addicted to. They'd have to double check with Law, the most reliable of them all when considering the situation, to be sure that the others were telling the truth. Hopefully, Law would know. "You can go, now. Send Hawkins in, alright?"

"Oh, you're not gonna come get him?" Perona questioned, getting to her feet.

"No." Marvel paused with his mouth open, then looked at the girl's retreating back. "Wait. What are Bonney's parents like?"

"They don't live on Drum Island so I don't know them," she said over her shoulder.

"What do you mean?" Pull said, tilting her head to the side, like a bird would. "She lives here, doesn't she?"

Perona turned around, her hand behind her, on the doorknob. "Well, from what she's told me, her parents bought a flat, shipped her out here to live in it, and wire her a bunch of money monthly from wherever they're staying. She had a nanny when she moved out here, so at least her parents made sure she was going to be taken care of. I remember her saying something about her nanny dying when she was ten. The woman had a heart attack during Bonney's birthday party. Died right in front of her."

"Ah…Okay, that's all I wanted to know. You can go."

"What was that about Marvel?" Pull muttered, crossing her legs as she stared at her clipboard.

"Usually, drug users flock together by classification of the drug they use most often. These kids are all over the place, so I wanted to see if they had anything else in common," Marvel mumbled back in response, frowning over at the window in the room. "They all have parental issues. Even Ace."

She smiled over at him, challenging him with, "What about Hawkins? What if he doesn't have any parental issues? Then why would they all flock together, hm?"

"Even if he doesn't, from what I can tell, he's a supplier. He deals drugs to them, so they keep him around, if not because of a feeling of kinship then because he gives them what they crave," Marvel answered, quieting when the door opened and the blonde teen entered. He completely ignored Pull's inviting smile, instead staring at Marvel silently with those eerie red eyes of his. Marvel pursed his lips, then said, "Sit down."

* * *

Hawkins was unusual. He thought all of this was entertaining. At least, even though he wasn't taking it seriously, he was being honest. Or it appeared that way. So far, according to him, he was addicted to marijuana. Of all things. And, yeah, Marvel hadn't been sure whether marijuana was addictive or not. But, according to Pull, it was possible. It was much more likely in those who smoked and drank, but it was still addictive. He'd first smoked marijuana after his neighbor, who had been growing it, had offered him some. Because it was so easy to sneak over into the guy's backyard and steal the cannabis plants, it became a regular thing. Then he began growing his own. Hawkins' parents were divorced. His dad had disappeared a few years ago. His mother always fought with him about anything and everything. He didn't seem to particularly care about any of these things. He was very laid-back, laughing off any stab at his pride that Pull dared to make. She didn't like him. Marvel could tell that much…but he himself thought Hawkins would be a challenge to get clean. And Marvel liked challenges.

"How exactly did all of you become friends?"

"Well, it was all Ace and I bet Mister Blue remembers this. It all started on the first day of our freshman year during the last class of the day, Art I. Law was already friends with Ace from what I understand. But they were big time loners, not trying to add more people to their little grouping. Out of our current friend group, Bonney and Perona were the ones that didn't have that class," Hawkins said, grinning. "Anyways, because Mister Blue went out in the hall to speak with Mr. Dracule, Law dared Ace to do some dumb ass stunt. In true Portgas fashion, Ace got up on the table and gave us all a strip tease. I thought Ace was doing a decent job of stripping, especially since he'd been able to make it down to his underwear before Mister Blue dragged him into the art room's supply closet and still made it look professional. He got into so much trouble for that.

"Of course, Kidd hated Ace for it. Called him butt-slut and man-whore whenever he saw him. Finally, Ace snapped and they started to get into random fights during class or in the hall or while at lunch…before they finally bonded during a scolding with Akainu. After that, they got me involved and _planned _their fights, making me use my power to tell them what would piss Akainu off more. They ended up coming up with a food fight once and that ended up putting them on Bonney's bad side." Hawkins tucked his hair behind his ear, still smiling cheerily. "But, because Ace understands the importance of a good burger, he treated her to an all-you-can-eat buffet and she grew to like him. I didn't get to personally see Ace become friends with Perona, but from what I hear, she was out on the town when she ran into Ace's cook, Sanji. That idiot was up in Perona's grill and she was freaking the hell out when Ace inserted himself between them. According to Perona, Ace actually had enough manners to apologize and make sure she was okay. To make up for it, Ace offered to buy her any one thing she wanted. She got that damned purse of hers. Still has it and it still looks brand new."

"Wow," Pull muttered, rolling her eyes. "It sounds like you're the only one who didn't hate Ace after meeting him. Must make you a really good friend."

"Well, I'm just as good a friend as the rest of them. I only like hanging out with him because interesting things happen around him and I find his personality out of the norm," the teen answered, making a point of ignoring Pull's hostile tone.

"Mhm. Whatever you say," she grumbled.

"Dr. Push, do you not like me?" Hawkins asked.

"No. You're not taking this seriously," she hissed at him, setting her clipboard aside.

"I'm not making fun of you, I promise. If I wanted to get clean, I could. Marijuana is easier to break off than cigarettes. I'm just not interested in quitting, so I don't see the point in getting serious about it," the teen told her, keeping his voice calm.

"Hmph. Well, I'm serious."

* * *

After Hawkins' session, all of my friends moved into the kitchen. I myself was being thoroughly scolded by the family members for keeping everything a secret for so long. And for running off. And for using drugs. I took their words silently, not even bothering to come up with excuses for any of it. I probably would have been ten times as okay with this situation if only Marco wasn't in the room.

"Marco, go away," I grumbled after another round of Haruta snarling at me. "Damn it, you made a promise."

"I promised not to get onto you and I haven't," the blonde pointed out, leaning against the wall nearest the door.

"But¾"

"I didn't say I wouldn't enjoy watching the rest of the family do it for me," he interjected, his piercing aqua eyes sliding up to mine. His lips slowly curled into a smug smirk and he stuck his tongue out at me for a short moment. "Anyhow, someone please get onto him for running off."

"Again!?" I exclaimed, slouching back into the cot. "You guys! You can't scold me for the same thing over and over again!"

"You wanna bet!" Thatch said, his hands placed upon his hips and his eyebrow cocked challengingly. "Oh, no, Ace. We're gonna make the most of this."

"…Kill me now," I muttered, putting my hands over my eyes. _Not fair, man! Not fair!_


	13. The Drug Turned Us On

**_IsHeFizzyIzzy: Uh...I'm gonna call you Izzy, my man. I'm assuming you're male...I might be wrong. Correct me if I am. Anyways, I think you deserve public praise for your hard and diligent and overly obsessive study of my story. I hope you enjoy this update and tell me more about the things in this chapter that pop out at you. Read carefully. You might see one of my hidden messages. Even one I don't know about. Moving on, I'm glad you think you struck gold, but this kind of gold ain't gonna make you rich, so it's nothing to get too excited about. And, the last thing I wanted to mention was...Well, you seem to have something against illiterate people. I have a friend who is dyslexic and has trouble with the past, present, and future tenses of words. She always forgets to get rid of the 'e' when adding 'ing' and the whole 'I before E except after C' rule. Those are her two biggest problems. However, stories that she comes up with are still intriguing and creative. Bad spelling doesn't mean it's a bad story. Just remember that the next time you read something that isn't your idea of perfect._**

**_Now that that's out of the way..._**

* * *

"I said you'd let him," Thatch stated. He was seated in a chair in Whitebeard's office, his left ankle on his right knee. He wore a smug, crafty expression as he spoke, one that was likely only meant to tick Marco off. "I didn't say you'd like it."

"Yeah, well, I'm not gonna do it," Marco hissed at him, his eyes narrowed with irritation. "That's just not happening, man."

"And why not?" Whitebeard asked from behind his desk, his hands linked across his stomach. He stared down at the blonde curiously, wondering what had happened to make Marco so adamant in his refusal of the simple task, one that might even benefit him, if he played his cards right.

"Yeah, Marco," Thatch interjected, his nose crinkling as he smiled cheerily. "Why not? Do you not like Ace?"

The blonde clasped his hands in front of his face, rolling his eyes heavenward and muttering, "Lord, if Thatch has yet to serve his purpose in this world, then you'd best kill me. Otherwise, he will be somewhat missed by few."

"Oh, pfft. I'm not that annoying." The brunette waved aside Marco's quiet, implied threat, biting into one of the warm, fluffy pastries off the platter balanced in his lap. Currently, he was multitasking. On one hand, he was arguing with his blonde counterpart. On the other hand, the one with the pastry, he was voluntarily taste-testing the latest dessert delights the orphanage's head-chef had concocted.

"Walk a mile in my shoes," Marco shot back. "You'll change your mind."

"Boys," Whitebeard said, effectively getting their attention. "Who's annoying and who's not is not what we're discussing. Marco, you refused to let Ace stay at your place. Thatch, you said Marco would let him bunk there. We need to sort this mess out."

"Ace can just go home," the blonde grumbled. "He can room with his brother. I'm sure Luffy wouldn't mind."

"Oh, poor Ace," Thatch said under his breath, shaking his head with exaggerated sorrow. "Bless his unfortunate soul."

"Shut up, Thatch." Marco stretched a leg out to kick the brunette in the shin, jostling the platter of food. "Ace actually likes Luffy."

Catching the edge of the dish, Thatch, seemingly unperturbed, said, "Oh, yeah, he likes Luffy. But how does he feel about you?"

"I said shut up," Marco snarled, almost coming out of his seat. If not for Whitebeard's raised hand, calling for quiet in the room, the blonde might have actually jumped the space between him and Thatch with the intent of causing harm. The brunette was deliberately pissing Marco off and Marco was taking the bait.

Whitebeard slowly lowered his hand, eyeing the two men before him. They had been cooped up in the room for the last fifty minutes and all they had to show for it was several devoured pastries and this continuous bickering. "You know, in the last hour, I've made less progress than I would have if I were talking to children."

Both of them sunk back in their chairs, eyes sliding to the floor, obviously ashamed of themselves for their behavior.

"I'm sorry, Pops," Marco said, sighing. "It's been a rough day. I just want to go home and relax. I can't do that with Ace there."

"You can't relax around Ace?" Whitebeard smiled gently. "Well, I suppose you have a point. There's no telling what will happen next when it comes to that child."

The blonde nodded stiffly in agreement, the corners of his eyes tightening. "I had Franky install cameras in his house. I should be able to monitor them from my home office. And I want to paint something anyways, so it wouldn't be too hard to occasionally check on him."

Whitebeard opened the bottom drawer of his desk, peering down at his stash of sake. He leaned back in his chair and decided he'd wait until Marco and Thatch were out of his office. It wasn't that they hadn't seen him drink before. It was just that they sometimes got openly concerned about it and with everything going on with Ace, well, they had enough on their plates. "Hm. Alright. After Twiggy and Marvel give Ace permission to leave, someone needs to make sure he has a ride home."

"Earlier, Twiggy told me Ace had high amounts of alcohol in his system, so it might be a while before he's released," Thatch informed them, downing a cream-filled pastry with little difficulty. He licked his fingers clean, closing his eyes. "Mm. Tasty."

"Wait, Ace was drunk?" Marco asked incredulously. "He didn't act like it."

"Yeah. It's those pills of his. I think Twiggy said the street name was…Jail Cell. But the pharmaceutical name is Cellixot. When you take them with alcohol, you're upping the effect of the pills, but a certain chemical in the drug acts as a sobering agent. So, it feels like more pill, less alcohol. The chemical also reduces hangover symptoms, so Ace wouldn't have been cranky in the morning. What did Twiggy call it? Um, di-dihydro…You know what, I don't remember the exact name, but the initials he used were DHM." Thatch took another pastry, one topped with icing and sprinkles, and bit into it. He chewed through it and swallowed before speaking again. "However, when taken after smoking marijuana, the effects of the pill wear off much more quickly, even if taken with alcohol. So, if Ace hadn't have smoked marijuana, he'd have been killed by that thing and wouldn't have even noticed it."

* * *

"Dihydromyricetin." Twiggy barely glanced up from his charts, tapping a pen against his chin thoughtfully as he flicked his gaze between the papers and the microscope before him. On a slim glass slide was some blood, presumably Ace's, and the doctor seemed preoccupied in his examination of it. "And, yes, it can sober a person up, no matter how much they've had to drink. Many scientists who've cared to research it actually call it the 'alcohol antidote' because, over time, people who take the drug will eventually have less of a desire to drink."

"Someone needs to slip that into Pops' sake," Marco muttered. "…It doesn't have any lethal side effects…does it?"

"None that have been discovered," Twiggy responded absentmindedly, putting his face up to the microscope. "Are you trying to start small talk with me? If so, you're doing a poor job of it."

"No, actually I came here hoping you'd tell me more about those pills Ace took," the blonde replied, placing his elbows on the counter top "Tell me about the relationship it has to marijuana."

"…Well, I'd have to start with telling you about the other chemicals the pills contain," Twiggy said, slowly drawing back from the microscope. He set his pen down and turned to Marco. "Alright, let's see. Um, bremelanotide, dihydromyricetin, eviproly, and etridobe. You know about dihydromyricetin. Uh, next is…bremelanotide, which belongs to a class of drugs called melanocortins. They operate in the mind, intensifying sexual desire. Deep inside the brain, the substance awakens passion by stimulating hypothalamic and limbic emotional structures, the parts that naturally flare when you're turned on."

Marco's eyes widened and he raised a hand as a signal for Twiggy to slow down. "…You're telling me…Ace took a drug to enhance his sexual desire…right?"

"Yes. And he will get what some would call a 'raging hard on' and be all the more remorseful for it, too." Twiggy's dark brown eyes lit up with laughter. "I mean, how happy would you be if you had an erection with your entire family in the same building as you? That's a catastrophe waiting to happen."

Pause. Blink. Proceed with caution. "Wait…The drug's been in his system a long time, hasn't it? Shouldn't he have already experienced whatever effects he was meant to experience, therefore no longer having an increased libido?"

"Actually, it can take up to two or three hours for bremelanotide to take effect. Considering Ace is a devil fruit user, anywhere between two to twenty-four hours is plausible. Also, the duration of the effects on the libido and the male erection has been said to last up to seventy-two hours," the doctor told him, raising a hand in a placating gesture when Marco's eyes bulged. "Not to worry. Most users find that it subsides within six hours of taking effect."

"See, _that's _why I don't know about this drug. No one wants a boner that lasts six hours," Marco claimed, running a hand through his hair.

"Quite the contrary. There are people who prefer it that way." Twiggy quieted when aggravated blue eyes settled on him, clearly telling him not to continue that train of thought. After a silent moment, the doctor began to talk again, only this time he was explaining the rest of the chemicals to the unsettled blonde. "Anyways, eviproly and etridobe. Eviproly is a recently discovered chemical in a type of coral, which grows in abundance around deposits of seastone. Alone, the chemical doesn't have any effects…besides an upset stomach and cancellation of devil fruit powers. However, when mixed with etridobe, a chemical extracted from dance powder, it becomes a mock cannabinoid chemical and has a similar structure to THC, the stuff in marijuana. It attaches to cannabinoid receptors, just as THC would. At first, it produces effects similar to ones you would get if you had smoked marijuana.

"It initially relaxes a person, mellows them out, sometimes creating a feeling of being lightheaded. Then other effects begin to show, ones seen in relation with ecstacy. The user will want to touch others and be touched. They generally like flashing lights and loud music and soft things. Usually, they act affectionately and, on the very rare occasion, they become talkative and want to converse with others for hours on end. They'll spill all of their deepest darkest secrets without thinking twice about it. But, take enough of it, and they'll have a continuous high that is overwhelming to the brain, which can induce a vegetative state. Some people call it 'brain dead' and that is incorrect. They can recover from the vegetative state. Not from brain death.

"There are some who ride the line between the vegetative state and the high. While like that, they become oblivious to what's going on around them. When they finally sober up again, all they'll remember is the sensation of being at peace. However, every time they do this, they risk going too far and ending up comatose."

"…Is Ace that kind of user?" Marco asked quietly, gazing down at his hands. He had straightened up, his hands clenching onto the edge of the counter, his knuckles white with the pressure. "Does Ace…ride the line?"

"From what the Trafalgar boy told me…It seems so." Twiggy pushed a few stray ginger curls from his forehead and sighed. "I'm sorry, Marco. I need to get back to work. If you really want to know more, the only person I can suggest is Ace himself."

The blonde shoved off of the counter, heading to the door of the lab. "Yeah, right. I'm not up for talking to him alone, especially if he's in for the boner of the year."

Marco paused at the door, his hand on the knob, but then he turned back to Twiggy.

Twiggy was bent over his microscope once again, examining whatever it was on the slide. After a moment, he seemed to have realized Marco wasn't gone. "Yes?"

The blonde sighed and returned to the counter. "I only have one more thing I need to ask..."

* * *

"Look, doc, I told you," I growled out, leveling an exasperated stare on Dr. Push. "My favorites are my happy pills."

"But are you addicted to them?" Marvel asked.

"You know what. I'm gonna make this really simple for all of us. I'm addicted to the pills." I leaned forward, glowering at the two of them. They'd been pestering me for the last hour about what I was and wasn't addicted to. They wanted to know how I started doing drugs and, for all I knew, I could have popped out of my mother with a blunt in hand. I sincerely don't remember how I started drugs. I mean, I remember that I tried them once when I was twelve, left them alone thinking they weren't all they were cracked up to be, then I hit high school and I'm suddenly smoking pot and snorting coke with Hawkins. It only escalated from there.

Though I don't remember how I started on drugs, I do remember how I got addicted to my pills. Law had gotten some new drugs from Hawkins and we'd decided to experiment with them together. They made me feel so damn light, like I was floating on a cloud, and there wasn't a damned worry in the world. Then I was crawling all over Law, the only person I had with me, and I can still recall how amazing his skin and hair had felt underneath my fingertips. How my breath hitched every time Law would shift and the movement would send pleasurable shudders down my spine. How fantastic it was when we had sloppy sex on the floor by his couch, because virgins simply don't know how to do erotic things correctly. Particularly when they're on drugs.

"How did you get addicted to them?"

"Oh, you know how it goes. Tried 'em once, fell in love, had to have more," I said, listening to the lewd memory of Law moaning beneath me. "Yep. That's the run-down of it all."

"I didn't want the run-down of Prince Charming and Cinderella, Ace. I want the story about you and the pills," Marvel said, his voice stern. "Would you please cooperate?"

I huffed out a breath, my shoulders slumping. Glancing over at the two of them, I made an expression I didn't have a name for. Perhaps it was one that would silently caution them. "You _really _want to know?"

"Yes, Ace, we really want to know," Pull told me.

"Okay, then. I was fourteen," I said. "Law had just gotten a sample of the pills from Hawkins, who'd asked him to see if they were worth his time. Of course, he didn't want to do it alone, considering it was a new drug and it might have ended badly. We got together at his place and downed a few of the pills. It wasn't immediate. It took about thirty minutes for things to start working. At first, it was just like having smoked a few blunts. Then our senses went a little whack, so we listened to some Aleksander Vinter, touched things…played with what few candles he had back then."

There was silence for a moment, but Marvel soon spoke up. "That it?"

"No," I muttered, trying to get enough guts up to tell them. If they weren't family, I'd be bragging about my lost virginity. But, no, they were family and it felt so amazingly awkward. I didn't want them anywhere near my sex life. Scowling internally at myself, I spat out, "The drug turned us on. We had lots of sex. It was awesome. The end."

"See? That wasn't so hard," Pull said, smiling as she and Marvel stood.

The door opened, Twiggle, or simply Twiggy, marching in. He was Marvel's younger brother. They were both gangling but that was about all that they had in common in the appearance department. Twiggy had curly ginger hair and, instead of bright green eyes, he had deep pools of dark chocolate. They smiled at one another, nodding their heads in silent acknowledgement of how their day went. Or that's how I was taking it. If it meant something else, I didn't know.

"Sorry to interrupt," Twiggy said.

"No, no. We were just wrapping up. However…I think we're going to have to talk more with Ace on a later date," Pull replied, taking a few steps closer to the door. "Perhaps when his memory serves him better."

"I'm telling you! I don't remember how I started drugs!" I exclaimed, aggravated that she was still stuck on that.

"Well, I just came to check up on Ace. Make sure he's comfortable." Twiggy approached me, smiling the same kind of smile that Pull always has. The one that makes me want to jump out the window, though I'm sure that's not the effect she tries for. Still, women that smile a lot are scary.

Marvel came to stand beside him. "How bad was it?"

"Well, his rib cage protected him from most of the damage. Still, once the injury got past the last rib, it went much deeper. He's okay for now, but stressing the wound too much might reopen it…which could end up being fatal." Twiggy placed a firm hand on my shoulder, his slender arm not appearing as formidable as his insistent pushing was. He kept pressing down on my shoulder until I was laying back on the cot. "You should rest."

"Whatever. I felt like sleeping, anyways," I grumbled, closing my eyes.

* * *

Marco edged into the kitchen with Thatch behind him, both of them eyeing the teens cautiously. They were clustered around the island counter, conversing quietly with one another until they saw the two grown men. Abruptly silent and tense, they trained their discomforting, mistrusting gazes on the adults. Law was separate from the group, standing near the window at the far end of the kitchen, away from the other teens. His arms were crossed over his chest as he twisted slightly to face Marco. Thatch wandered over to the fridge, his moves smooth and unhurried, as if he was afraid he would scare the teenagers off with any quick sudden movements. The art teacher directed his attention back to Law.

"Uh…hi," the boy greeted awkwardly.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" The blonde jerked a thumb over his shoulder, barely giving the other teens a second glance now that Thatch was close enough to keep a good eye on them. "In private?"

"Sure," Law answered slowly, ambling past Marco and into the hall.

The blonde glanced between Thatch and the others before exiting the room, taking the boy by the arm and leading him out the front door. He settled down on the first step of the orphanage, gesturing for Law to sit beside him. "The others don't want to quit, do they?"

"No, not even Ace," Law replied solemnly. He, too, settled down onto the concrete stairs, sighing as he wrapped his arms around his middle. He wasn't wearing a jacket, but they wouldn't be out here for too long. "They're stubborn. All of them."

"Yeah, well, if they don't want to, then they're likely not to. But, we need to at least make sure they understand that you're serious about this. That might help push them in the right direction." Marco laced his fingers together, his elbows on his knees, and he stared up at the sky for a moment. "You said you kept drugs at your house for daily use, didn't you?"

He nodded once, pursing his lips. "What do you want me to do?"

"Come on," the blonde said, pointing out his shiny blue sports car. The orphanage's parking lot was packed and, across the street, the lot of the gas station with the mini restaurant inside was in a similar shape, mainly because there were so many people in the family and the orphanage just didn't have enough room for everyone's vehicles. "We're going to your place."

* * *

I laid there, awake, but I didn't open my eyes. For an amount of time that I hadn't kept track of, I had just existed. My thoughts were hazy little things that came just as fast as they went, flitting around inside my head but without making an impression. I wasn't feeling any strong recognizable emotions (just the vague ones that came and went with my thoughts and didn't make their mark on me), my breathing was even, my muscles relaxed. I felt like I…was. I just…was. I existed and therefore I was, I am, and, as far as I could tell, I will be. Later, I knew, I wouldn't understand this feeling of being real…Of being human and simply existing in the world.

Someone was clinging tightly to my side, quiet for the most part. Every now and then, the person would sniffle and his skin, dappled with goose bumps, was moist with sweat. Whoever it was, he wasn't asleep. He was there with me, soundlessly snuggling the uninjured half of my body, cold toes brushing against my feet occasionally, and warm lips gently pressed to the column of my throat.

"Law?" I whispered.

"…Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you" he replied, just as quiet.

I shook my head slightly. "You didn't. At least, I don't think you did."

"You don't know?" Law said, sounding amused.

"I don't remember why I woke up." I shifted into an upright position, running a hand through my hair as I left that state of simple existence completely. The window was letting in silver rays of light, indicating the golden sun had temporarily abandoned this side of the world. "What time is it?"

"The god awful hours of the morning." Law snatched the sheets from me as I slid off of the cot, tugging them around his slim body. "Where ya going?"

"Kitchen." I pulled up the sweatpants I was wearing, opening the sickbay door and sticking my head out to peer down the hall. Once I had made sure the coast was clear, I stepped out, shutting the door behind me and making my way to the kitchen. I made myself two sandwiches with a whole packet of sandwich meat, then stuffed my face. As I licked my fingers clean, I made to cross the kitchen, going to put my plate in the sink.

"Ace."

Half way to the sink, I turned to find Marco in the entrance way I wasn't quite sure how to react to his presence. Normally, I would pick a fight and then go about my day. But…Pixie-Dust wasn't around to punish me if I did otherwise. It wouldn't always be like this. Pixie-Dust would come back. Still, for now, I didn't want to fight with him and call him names and make him think he might have done something wrong. "…Hey," I finally said, feeling lame after it left my lips.

"You shouldn't be up," the blonde told me, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I got hungry," I explained, drumming my fingers on the underside of the plate in my hands. "Um…This is awkward."

Marco's brow rose slightly, but his expression didn't change otherwise. "Twiggy says those pills of yours can give you a six hour erection."

My fingers slipped and the dish fell to the kitchen tiles, shattering on impact. I winced, immediately kneeling down to pick the glass up. Marco came around the island counter and crouched, grabbing my wrist before my fingers made contact with any of the shards. "Sorry…I just…"

"Let me, Ace," Marco muttered, pushing my hand back towards me. He straightened back up only after I stood, going to one of the cabinets. He pulled out a box of premium tea bags and emptied the remaining tea bags into the tea caddy. Then he grabbed a dish towel from one of the drawers and crouched back down next to the mess.

"Sorry," I said again, feeling even more uncomfortable than I had before.

"Don't worry about it. Accidents happen," the blonde responded, wrapping the glass into the dish towel before putting it into the empty box. He closed the box, set it on the counter, and turned to me. After a moment, he exhaled loudly. "Ugh. I just don't know what to do about you Ace."

I shrugged a bit, feeling a tad guilty for the sudden mental image of Marco standing in front of me naked, which did a lot to my nether regions. Nothing good, I assure. Putting some distance between us, I went to the entrance way glancing over my shoulder to say, "How about we ignore each other? I mean, if this is how awkward and self-conscious it's going to make me feel every time I try to act decent around you, then I don't think I even wanna try."

After that, I made for the bathroom because I had the feeling the drugs were going to work on my arousal. Hopefully, I could manage to be quiet for a while. I would have asked Law to join me, but he was quitting the sex, the drugs…the alcohol. He might even quit smoking. I hadn't heard much talk about that. But…maybe Law was sincerely considering quitting. …Maybe it really was time for us to quit. We were still young and living my life depending on drugs…wasn't a happy future, in my opinion. But…could I really stop? When Pixie-Dust came back, I'd get that irresistible crave for my pills. Could I really…truly stop, even considering that?

Lost in my thoughts, I almost forgot about the erection that was getting worse and worse the longer I waited, standing here like a buffoon and staring at air. I continued on my way to the bathroom, walking in a way that would disturb my goodies less.

* * *

"Thatch, wake up," Marco said, reaching down to pat the other's cheek. Thatch had passed out on the sofa in the library, one leg over the edge.

"Wha-?" Thatch mumbled, blinking blearily up at the blonde as he yawned. "…Damn it, we have work in the morning, asshole. Let me sleep."

"No way. I just bumped into Ace in the kitchen." Marco shoved Thatch's legs off of the sofa and took their place, stretching his own out in front of him, his feet hidden under the coffee table.

The brunette sat up, his eyes beginning to register things around him. "What did you just say?"

"You heard me."

"Whoa. …How'd things go?" Thatch asked.

"You were right." Marco ran his palms over his knees, his flesh scraping against denim. "He feels as awkward and guilty as me, if not more so. When I tried to start a conversation with him…Well, I didn't do too good of a job. Could have found a better topic, that's for sure. And I've never felt like I've had problems with getting him to talk to me, whether he was cursing his lungs out at me or not. But just a minute ago…Wow, man, _that _was a very uncomfortable moment of my life."

"I take it things didn't go well," the brunette said. "Anything in particular I should or would like to hear?"

Marco frowned for a moment, shaking his head. He didn't feel up to verbally revisiting that painful encounter. "Ace…He…He's an attractive boy, right?"

"Well, yeah. Have you seen all the girls and, uh, guys that flirt with him? They know he's a hot slice of pie and they want him," Thatch remarked, making the blonde feel a little uncomfortable with the other. "You wanna know why? He's got everything. From the hair to the smile to the money to the muscle. You name it…He's probably got it."

"Thatch…Are you gay for Ace?" Marco paused, then added, "Or are you just gay?"

"I'm not gay. I just know what others see when they see Ace," he said defensively, frowning. "Did I sound gay?"

"Yeah. Definitely." The blonde sighed, waving that aside with a swift motion of his hand. "Anyways, earlier with Ace, I…Well, it was weird. I mean, we weren't fighting for once, but…it was like the only thing I could think about while around him was the whole idea about him being in love with me. How it's wrong and sinful. How it might not carry over real well with a few people in the family. How it felt impossible for me to be able to think of him as a potential lover and how I'd feel extremely horrible if I did. If this is how Ace felt around me all this time, I don't blame him for wanting nothing to do with me. It's an awful feeling. And I'm not the one thinking that if I do open up and say something, I'll get rejected. It must be so much worse for him when I'm around."

Thatch grinned, breathing deeply before yawning once more. "I don't mean to sound like I'm trying to hasten things up a little bit, but did you make a decision?"

"Shush. I came to you for your biased advise, not your stupid questions," Marco admitted, fighting the contagious urge to yawn. "I'm still undecided, but…If I do decide that I might be willing to try with Ace, what would you suggest I do next?"

"Woo him," Thatch stated with a firm nod. "That's exactly what you need to do."

Marco struggled with his feelings of discomfiture, standing and going behind the sofa to pace. "…How?"

"I don't know. I guess…Start small. Don't rush into it. Try not to scare him off. Be careful what you say because he could take it the wrong way." Thatch laid back down, dragging his legs back up onto the sofa again. "Really, I'd just do what seems to work the best for both parties."

Marco stilled, sighing. "Your biased advise is so cryptic."


	14. Where's All My Red Paint?

**_I'm dealing with writer's block, so this one was hard to get out. It's just setting the stage for more progress with Marco and Ace and explaining how things are going on Ace's end. A bit of a time skip in this one._**

* * *

Marco wanted to walk away. Just walk away and have a bout of amnesia. He stood in front of the downstairs bathroom, simply listening to the quiet sounds from beyond. As he turned away, as he focused his gaze on the stairs across from him, he heard it. Ace had just called him name. It was soft and, if he hadn't been so damned aware of Ace on the other side, he might not have noticed. But, as soon as he did, he clenched his hands over his ears and closed his eyes. _Really, Ace? Really?_

A minute passed and he slowly dropped his hands back to his sides. But instead of continuing on his way, he stayed there. If he didn't think too hard about it, it wasn't too bad. He could stand hearing Ace like that. Carefully, he tiptoed back to the bathroom door and cautiously sat on the floor to the side of it. Almost instantly, he felt the urge to get back up. The noise Ace was making inside the bathroom was much clearer and more defined. He could hear the small hitches in the boy's breathing, the discreet groans, subdued moans, and the affection with which his name was called occasionally. Marco wanted run. Not just walk away. Run.

But he forced himself to stay still and endure, if only for a little longer. After a while, it wasn't that hard to stay in that one spot. It took a bit of self convincing, but it wasn't an all out battle going on in his head. Marco spent this time unable to block out Ace's soft voice, only capable of internally analyzing it and memorizing it. A long time passed and, after several thoughts on Ace's long lasting erection and how his voice, at times, was actually kind of erotic(which would always make the blonde reconsider his decision to wait Ace out), Marco realized he wasn't as bothered with it as he had first been. He had started out feeling extremely awkward. Then, unease and irritation. And then, mild frustration with himself and a sense of growing tolerance. That's where he was right at the moment. He was agitated with himself mainly because he'd been stupid enough to sit down and listen to the real life porn going on in the bathroom. But, then again, he was beginning to be able to tolerate the thought of Ace's feelings for him. Marco wasn't shying away from the mere thought of something happening between them.

Of course, the blonde wasn't ready to jump in on a relationship with the teen. But, with a little warming up, he might be able to convince himself to give it a shot and see if he wanted something of that nature. Having only ever been interested in women before, however, made this a little harder to warm up to. This was going to take time. And lots of it. Marco gracefully got to his feet and headed upstairs to color in the coloring books in the kids' playroom. He wasn't going to get any sleep, so he might as well distract himself. Over thinking things would get him nowhere.

* * *

It had been four days since my last encounter with Pixie-Dust and my wounds were healing quickly. About two days ago, Twiggy had given me permission to leave his care, as long as I promised not to strain my injury too much. Though the car ride was awkward, Marco had taken me home. Me and Dike immediately drew up the new design for my room and the living room, but we couldn't exactly do anything if we didn't have the furniture, so we went shopping. While we were out, we bought paint and I invited my friends over to help. We ended up having a mini party that, per Law's request, was drug-free, alcohol-free, and sex-free. Just because he was quitting drugs didn't mean we were going to exclude him from our activities. Don't get me wrong. I wasn't going to invite him to any orgies, but a little time with his friends was my way of reassuring him that, yes, we were still friends.

Because of a little mix-up with the paint, the living room had gained chocolate walls and my room had Tropical Holiday walls. I had the feeling that my friends did it on purpose, painting my room blue and all. Of course, I'd spent the rest of the night trying to make things better using the leftover can of brown paint and now it looked like someone had done a bit of stenciling. On one wall, the wall that had the bedroom door, I had painted fourteen clocks of various sizes and shapes, only, instead of a circle of numbers, they had the alphabet. The hands of the clocks all pointed to one letter. If you put it together correctly, it said 'unrequited love' and that was pretty depressing. But it wasn't an obvious thing. You had to follow the path the hands pointed to. If it pointed at the letter N, which was down, the clock below that one had the next letter. Not many people would see that.

On the opposite wall, I had a tree with leafless branches stretching out from one corner to the other. I planned on painting tiny pictures and framing them, then making them appear to hang from the branches. We'd see how that turned out afterwards. The last wall was blank, for now. I knew what I was going to do with it. I just didn't have all of the paints necessary for what I planned. It was going to be big, though. Really big.

After I'd finished trying to makes things less bland, I'd passed out in Luffy's bed, where I would continue to sleep until I got replacement blankets and pillows for my own bed. I would have slept in the guest bedroom…but I hadn't been able to get the guts up to go in there for the last year. Luffy was staying over at Chopper's because he'd managed to get into another fight. This time with the fishman, Arlong. All because Arlong wouldn't leave Nami alone. So, I had his room to myself. Not that I was happy about that. Luffy's room was a mess and I refused to clean it up for him. He was a big boy and, if he cared enough to want it clean, then he could do it himself.

Before I woke up, some of the furniture for the living room had come, including the huge TV. While I was sleeping, Dadan forced Luffy, with Zoro and Sanji's help, to rearrange things according to my sketch. She called it 'punishment' but I called it being lazy. She tended to slack off when I wasn't looking. Still, if Luffy could laugh it off, then it wasn't enough of a reason to really fire her and her followers. Plus, I couldn't get rid of her when she so thoughtfully got me _another _phone.

Franky had told me that he'd checked all of the wiring in the house since the day I'd burnt the living room up and everything was A-Okay. My bathroom had been cleaned up real nice, making the tiled floor sparkle, but, sadly, I couldn't shower in there until the replacement shower door came. Hopefully, it would arrive with the rest of my junk. There were a lot of things we had to replace. Before when this thing would happen, I wouldn't really notice how much trouble it was to fix the place up. Usually because I wouldn't come home for a week or two. I'd stay with a friend. But now that Pixie-Dust wasn't scaring me out of my own house, I was seeing the trouble I'd been causing everyone. It wasn't a happy thought, thinking I was a burden on my brother and my friends. I must have made them all worry so much. To make up for it, I'd given Perona an all-day ticket to a spa. Bonney had gotten free access for the next week to the local all-you-can-eat buffet. I knew the man who owned it and I'd promised to give him as much money as needed for what she ate. Hawkins got a variety of things from me, including a smoking pipe, should he might want to try that out with his weed. Kidd received a box of condoms, colored and glow in the dark. Kidd probably sat down and read the sayings on the condoms. He always laughs at those. Law…Well, because Law was quitting drugs, I only had the choice of getting him a ton of candles or giving him money.

All I can say is Law had thoroughly distracted himself from his withdrawal when I'd given him a check worth seventy thousand. I'd read off of the internet that it was a good idea for someone coming off heroin to distract themselves. Hopefully, the money would help. He was currently hunting for a new vehicle, preferably a van, and he seemed to be having a good time doing it. Of course, he swore up and down that he owed me and he'd pay me back some day. I wasn't really worried about the money. That was pocket change for me.

As for all of my neighbors, excluding Marco, I had sent them invitations to a little dinner party in town on the coming Thursday. There was going to be games, food, music, entertainment such as dancers and jugglers and the such, plus fireworks. Hopefully, I'd be able to make it. It was business related for me, but all pleasure for my neighbors. And, afterwards, I was going to treat Luffy to an all-meat buffet. In doing all of this, I was giving Dadan and her followers a day off. This stuff I was doing was pretty much me making up for worrying everyone and causing so much trouble where, really, no one else should have gotten involved.

Now, well into the fourth day of Pixie-Dust's absence, I was destined to be disturbed from an afternoon of watching my new TV. I pushed off of the fluffy couch, which smelled like wood shavings and a furniture warehouse, and I went to open the door.

"…Uh, what are you doing here?" I asked.

"The painting's due Wednesday, so I though it'd be best to jump back on that horse while we still had time," Marco replied, shouldering past me.

"Oi!" I growled, shutting the door. "At least wait until I've invited you inside."

"You wouldn't have," he told me, heading upstairs.

I scowled, knowing he was right, and trailed after him. Of course, I felt a burst of self-satisfaction when I remembered the keypad to my door. Marco couldn't get in my room without my say so. Or so I thought. Marco punched in the code and the door unlocked, letting him in. I stalled in the hallway, gaping at him.

"…How?"

"It's a secret," he said, grinning over his shoulder at me. "Now, come on. We haven't got all day."

As the shock at seeing him get into my room wore off, I realized I had no choice but to face my fate. Sighing, I dropped my gaze to the floor as I shuffled forward and silently raged at Lady Luck for raining her curses down upon me. When I entered the room, I looked up again. Marco was stripping.

"What the hell are you doing!?" I exclaimed, wanting to look away but unable to.

A look of confusion flashed across his face momentarily. "…Taking my shirt off?"

His words dredged up the memory of our last painting session and I sorely regretted my foolishness from Tuesday. How could I have been so stupid to have told him to take his shirt off?! I mean, being a horny teenager is hardly an excuse at all. However, even though I regretted it, I couldn't exactly take it back. I would simply have to man up and suffer for my thoughtless actions. "Right. Just…sit down. I'll get everything set up."

* * *

"How about we call it a night, hm?" Marco said, shifting slightly so he could see out the window behind Ace.

Ace pointed a finger at him, snapping, "Hold still!"

Marco scowled, but returned to his original pose. Ace had been surprisingly focused on his work, giving the blonde sparing glances as he continued to paint. He didn't stare long and he didn't seem to let himself get distracted from the art for even a moment. It was a noticeable change from Tuesday. According to the teen, he didn't have all of the paints necessary, but was going to apply what he could while they had the time. He had several yellows and blues along with white and black, which could make varying shades of green, but he was missing one very important color. Red. He couldn't make orange or purple or brown without it.

"Ace, come on. We can take a break and come back to it later. I'm hungry," Marco complained after a few minutes of silence.

The teen didn't answer for a bit, then he stepped away from the canvas, and made for the bathroom. The blonde heard the water running in the sink and, assuming it was safe to move now, he stood. Ace was probably rinsing his materials and, because Marco had mentioned hunger, preparing to go downstairs. It was almost six and that was about the time that the blonde usually ate. Perhaps it was the same for Ace.

"Alright. I guess you should come back in an hour or so," Ace suggested, stepping out of his bathroom.

"I'm gonna eat over here," Marco responded, heading for the bedroom door.

"Uh, no," the teen called after him.

"Uh, yeah." The blonde smiled, deeply satisfied with himself. It was turning out to be a good day. Ace was chasing after him down the hallway, still snapping at him about how he didn't want him to stay over for dinner. "What's for dinner, anyways?"

They headed down the stairs and entered the dining room. "Seriously, Marco? I really just want to eat in peace. Tomorrow's Monday and I have to go back to that damned school. Give me a break, here."

"I have to go, too," Marco shot back.

Sanji poked his head into the room from the kitchen and flicked his gaze between the two of them. A wonderful mixture of scents flowed into the dining room, making the art teacher's mouth water. Sanji nodded his head at Marco, asking, "He staying for dinner?"

"No," Ace told him.

"Yes." Marco grinned over at the other blonde, taking a seat at the large table. The young chef shrugged, going back into the kitchen, leaving the two of them to themselves. "I like what you did with your walls."

Ace reluctantly took a seat across from the blonde, scowling. After a minute of silence in which Marco resolved to wait for Ace to make a move, the teen muttered moodily, "I don't see why you have to come over to model. I can half-ass that damned painting without your help."

"And I can flunk you," the blonde retorted, rolling his eyes. He probably should have chosen the topic of conversation rather than letting Ace. They'd likely only get into an argument from here on out.

Ace began drawing circles lightly on the tabletop with his fingers. Drying paint was jam-packed under his short, manicured nails and staining the flesh of his hands. The teen was usually neat, but today his hair was mussed and his shirt was rumpled, as if he simply didn't care what he looked like. It was relaxing to see Ace looking almost carefree for once. "You wouldn't," the narcoleptic finally responded, staring blankly down at his hands.

"And why wouldn't I?"

"You're nepotistic." The teen stood and walked out into the main hall, glancing over his shoulder. His eyes lingered for a moment longer and then he disappeared outside of the room.

Marco settled back in his chair, frowning slightly. "Nepotistic? Where in the world does he learn these words?"

The kitchen door opened and Sanji entered, setting two wine glasses down on the table. He held a bottle of white wine in his other hand and, just as he was about to pop the top, Marco reached out and gripped his wrist. The young chef stilled, his eyes narrowing slightly. "…Yeah?"

"Don't you think you're a little young to be handling wine?" Marco let go of Sanji, gently pushing the wine glasses away. It was obvious what he was getting at. He didn't want Ace drinking and it was a tad aggravating to see the chef preparing it so readily.

"…Right," Sanji said, grabbing the wine glasses and retreating back into the kitchen. Only a moment later, he returned with cups of sweet, fizzy refreshments. Marco sipped at his drink as he waited for Ace to come back, watching as Sanji quickly slid back into his domain. Left alone to his thoughts as he was, he didn't bother hiding his interest in the paintings decorating the dining room. There was one of an army wrapped in loose cloths of all colors, men and women alike riding on camels and horses, some on foot, treading through the desert sand. Another painting depicted a majestic ship in a raging storm, fighting the ferociousness of nature, men scrambling about on board in an attempt to keep the ship afloat. Having experienced it himself, Marco couldn't help but admire how realistic the art was. It was so detailed that it looked as if the swelling waves were about to start pouring right out of the frame.

"Remind you of when you were a pirate?"

Marco switched his gaze to the dining room entrance, looking Ace up and down. He'd combed his hair, washed his hands, and changed shirts. The blonde sighed, disappointed that he wouldn't get to enjoy more of Ace's disheveled self. "Yeah."

"Good memories?" Ace came to sit down, grabbing his drink and making a face after tasting it. He eyed Marco openly, appearing to know exactly what happened while he was gone.

"Hm…Mostly," the blonde answered, his gaze wandering back to the painting. "It's a magnificent piece."

The teen's glass clinked as it settled back on the tabletop. "Eh, could be better."

"You know, you're kind of depressing," Marco stated just before Sanji opened the door to the kitchen and carried in platters of food. As he and Ace ate, food kept coming, until their appetites were fully satisfied and they lazed there quietly. Over dinner, the blonde discovered that the teen wasn't opposed to impersonal conversation. In fact, he would contribute to the chatter if his mouth wasn't completely stuffed with sustenance. It was nice to be able to sit down and actually talk with the other after such a long time.

In the end, Marco reevaluated his understanding of Ace. Before, he'd thought Ace was…well, an idiot. He was a rebellious teenager who did drugs and broke a bunch of laws. Naturally, the whole family had assumed that Ace wasn't a very smart boy. Wrong. Ace knew a lot of interesting things. He had a good grip on politics and the economy, something he would need if he intended to keep his father's businesses. He was caught up on current events and had a way of carrying an intriguing conversation without stating his opinions. His vocabulary wasn't as isolated as Marco had previously thought. Hell, the blonde was pleased with himself just for knowing the unusual words and understanding them and keeping up with what Ace had to say. But, if Marco didn't prod the discussion occasionally, it would die down into an awkward silence.

By the time they ran out of things to talk about, other than more personal matters, it was past eight' o'clock. As Magra and Dogra cleared the table and made for the kitchen, Marco stood, feeling as if he'd achieved something. Ace saw him to the door, which was unexpected, but the blonde had a feeling that it had more to do with wanting to lock it behind him than being hospitable.

"Thanks for the meal," Marco said as he opened the front door, stepping outside into the snow.

"No need to thank me. After all, I didn't invite you," Ace told him, grabbing the knob and closing the door.

* * *

After I'd locked the door, I headed back upstairs to my room. I pulled my materials out of the bathroom sink and spent the next hour touching up the painting. The majority of it was done, even the bits where I had to do shading with paint, but without the red…It just wouldn't be the result I was looking for. I wanted the sun setting in the background, shining through the trees and bushes, pink and orange and red surrounding the sun with a pale purple and brilliant blue for the rest of the cloudless sky. Damn it. I needed to get some red paint.

I stood there, staring blankly at the unfinished painting before me. "…Where's all my red paint?!"

"You used it all when you went nuts on your bathroom."

I shifted my gaze to my bedroom doorway. Dike stood there in all her manly glory, fat lips set in a line. I considered what she said and then I nodded once before glancing down at the paintbrush in my hand. "Oh, yeah. I did, didn't I? Well…Shit!"


	15. Just Drugs, Not Sex

**_Hey...I know. I know. I took forever with this. Actually, I stopped writing completely somewhere along the way. It started to feel like a chore and I didn't want to force myself. Anyways...I healed fine after the tonsillectomy. Thanks to those of you who were concerned enough to ask. That's really considerate. But StrawberryGirlKairi sent me a message (I don't know if you want your name to be mentioned or not, so I give you my sincerest apologies if I've done wrong) and...the message helped me keep writing. It gave me the push I needed, so thank you. _**

**_I have the chapter after this one already completed, but not the one after that one. I'll upload the second one after I've finished the other. I'm trying to stay ahead. It's not working out so well. I complete two chapters only to get stuck on a third. . Blegh!_**

**_Also, to StrawberryGirlKairi in reply to your review. ...DAMN IT! I love it when people notice all the small little things. Yes, Marco was the password and it's going to pop up later in the story. Or, at least, I plan for it to. Plans might change. But still...Super glad someone noticed! :D_**

* * *

"You know, usually, you're not allowed to chat while in detention," I pointed out to Marco. Truthfully, though, I was internally pleased that he was so talkative. His voice was as delectable as always. Meaning, it went straight to my groin. If I let my mind wander for even a minute, I was bound to think of other activities he could be using his vocals for. That would only get me an erection. I would know. I got one yesterday when Marco came to my house, yet again, and chatted me up during our painting session. Thankfully, the painting was nearly done and due tomorrow.

"Hey, instead of having Dadan pick you up, how about I drive you home?" Marco asked, his feet propped up on the desk beside me. He was completely ignoring the poster at the front of the room, the one that had the rules printed on it. "We're going in the same direction, anyway, right?"

"I really don't think that's a good idea," I responded, jotting down a quick answer to the last question of my math work. Lately, Dike hadn't been letting me drive. She said something about not trusting me not to kill myself in a wreck, but I wasn't really paying attention to her. Not that I minded. I usually did my work as she drove us home, which meant I was finally caught up on all my shit. Having missed three days last week, I'd had a lot of work pile up, but I'd managed to get everything done because of all the time I had in isolation and detention. I'd saved my math work for last because, even though it was easy, it was boring. Very boring. Now that there were no more numbers and equations I had to fiddle with, I could sit here and do nothing. I would enjoy a nice nap, but sleeping was forbidden in detention. Although, considering he was ignoring the rules, Marco might not bite my head off for doing the same. Still, it was best not to take chances. Misbehaving in detention could get me added days.

Marco watched as I packed my stuff into my backpack, his observant gaze unnerving me. "Why wouldn't it be a good idea? It's the same as carpooling. Don't you want to do something good for the environment?"

"I have a recycling bin at home. Isn't that enough?" I zipped my bag up and stared longingly at the clock mounted on the wall, wishing for the day to be over. It wouldn't be long, but every minute grated on my every nerve. The sooner I got home, the sooner I could take a break. Even just half an hour away from Marco would be enough for me to get my head on straight again. I slid my gaze over to the guy of my unending affections and sighed. _Why me?_

"That's more than most," the blonde admitted, making an odd face.

My left brow twitched and I shifted my feet over the tiled floor. "You're not one of those crazy environmentalists, are you?"

"No, but I hate when people know what they _can _do to help and still _don't _do it." He dropped his feet to the floor and glanced over at the clock. Ten more minutes then we'd get to leave this hellhole. He stood and approached the teacher's desk at the front of the room, grabbing his papers, the ones he spent about five minutes grading, and slipped them into his laptop case. Every teacher had one. Marco used the case like a backpack, putting his papers in it and lugging it around the school all day.

Having a clear view, I eyed the blonde's backside appreciatively. As Marco finished packing up and turned to face me, I said, "That explains why all the art supplies are ecofriendly."

Marco's lips quirked up at the corners and he rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Are you gonna ride with me or not?"

And, against my better judgment, I answered, "Sure."

* * *

The remaining furniture for the living room and my room had arrived early today, while I was still in school, and everything had been arranged according to my sketch. Most of the furniture in the living room was white and the throw pillows varied from indigo to beige to black. If the walls had been blue, the room probably would have had more pop to it. But the walls were brown and it would be too much trouble to repaint it.

My room, on the other hand, had plenty of pop. Bright blue walls with designs in brown, clean white carpet decorated with a faux silvertip bear rug, a round bed adorned with multiple sheets and pillows in all the shades of mid-October leaves, along with a dresser and desk shoved against the walls where they would hopefully stay. My belongings were stowed away where they were supposed to be. Everything was nice and neat, just the way I liked it, and my bathroom was in order as well. All of this was good.

The bad thing was I didn't get to enjoy the completed feel of my house. Marco invaded my home and we were currently in the midst of painting. I hadn't informed him of how near to completion I was and, if he was so determined to do this, I was at least going to enjoy it a little. The bastard couldn't even give me a break. After all of the school work I'd done and the tolerance I'd shown, he was going to force me into painting again. Although, getting to openly stare at the guy of my dreams was definitely a plus.

* * *

Ace wasn't as focused today as he had been the last two days. He was still painting, of course, but he just wasn't as into it as Marco wanted him to be. After about a half hour, the boy's thoughts seemed to have started to drift. The blonde rose from his spot on the bed, ignoring it when Ace complained. He went to stand behind the boy, eyeing the completed painting.

"…How long have you been done?" Marco asked.

Ace gave a noncommittal shrug, refusing to meet the blonde's gaze as pink blossomed in his cheeks.

Chuckling, Marco examined the painting, which exhibited marvelous detail and a true-to-life feel. The sky in the painting was in the multihued state of sunset, casting a pinkish-orange shadow on the white beach in the scene. Palm trees and shrubbery garnished the background, a multitude of radiant beams pouring through the maze of their trunks. Marco himself was in the foreground, seated upon an open treasure chest. Golden chains, extravagant necklaces, gaudy pendants and gems all spilled out onto the sand. Large shiny rings adorned every one of his fingers, strings of pearls dangling from his relaxed grip. Clutched in one hand, he had a jewel encrusted golden chalice tipped ever-so-slightly so that a tiny stream of crystal clear water drizzled out. The liquid poured directly into his other hand, which was cupped, the water spilling over the sides of his hand and trickling over the pearls. Falling from the chalice was a fish, seeming to have been stopped in mid-fall, right above his palm. It was a tropical fish, dark blue with yellow highlights. Tiny, almost imperceptible water droplets were being flung from its tail, as if it had been flailing. Marco himself wore what appeared to be eighteenth century pirate garb. His dark purple coat and thin white cotton shirt were open to reveal his tattooed torso and muscled abdomen. A turquoise sash held his dark grey pants to his hips and his black leather musketeer boots were firmly planted on the beach.

He was obviously a pirate.

"Nice. Remind all my students that I am…was a pirate," Marco stated with a hint of irritation, sighing. "But, I have to admit, it's fantastic. Well done, Ace."

The boy tensed as Marco draped an arm around his shoulders, but, after a moment, he relaxed. "Uh…thanks."

"I'll be taking this home with me," Marco added as an afterthought.

"Huh? I can, um, handle it," the boy mumbled, rolling his shoulders in a halfhearted attempt to get the blonde off of him.

"No. I'm not chancing you fucking this one up," Marco told him, clearly referencing the times where Ace destroyed his own artwork. "Though saying this will probably only inflate your ego…In my opinion, you have the most talent out of all of my students."

* * *

Law rolled over onto his stomach, his face buried into his pillow. He'd quit heroine. Completely. Cold turkey. He'd gone a few days without it and he'd adjusted to the change, just as the doctor had said he would. There were no drugs in his house, unless you counted cigarettes. He hadn't smoked a single one since the first day at the orphanage and was planning on throwing the remaining ones in the trash. It wasn't that big a deal considering he hadn't really been hooked on them in the first place.

Flipping over onto his back, Law gazed up at his ceiling, barely able to see the rugged stone in the dark room. Clutched in his hand was his cell phone. Out of all of his friends, Ace, the one who needed the most help, was the only one who had taken him seriously from the beginning. On the first day, Hawkins and Kidd had sent him texts and left voice messages. Hawkins offered him drugs at a low price. Kidd wanted to have sex with him. He hadn't called them back. He deleted the messages, turned his phone off, and tried to get some sleep. They tried again on the second day. On the third, they didn't even bother with him. Even at school, he felt like they were drifting away from him. Kidd would disappear into the bathroom at lunch, followed closely by a freshman with a perky attitude and skin-tight pants. Law knew Kidd had found himself a new favorite sex buddy, which actually made Law jealous, but he still refused to try to take the freshman's place. However, he did make sure to make his disapproval known, which seemed to only irritate Kidd. Hawkins, Bonney, and Perona were spending a lot more time together. They likely went down to the Cannabis Plot everyday after school or shoplifted expensive things at unwitting stores. Whatever it was they were doing, they were leaving him out of it. And with Ace in isolation and detention, none of his friends were hanging out with him

…He felt so alone. He'd talked to Mister Blue during class yesterday, while turning in his painting, and he still wasn't reassured. Early this morning, he'd decided to just stay home. He'd skipped school many times before and there wasn't really anything they could do to him. If they wanted to fine his nonexistent parents, then so be it.

It was a little after six and the sun had probably already begun to set. Law hadn't eaten, nor had he left his bed. It was at this depressing moment in his life, where he was anxiously wondering if he had any friends left, that he really wanted to get doped up on some kind of drug. But…he already knew he couldn't. The lack of drugs to get doped up on was a major factor in this. He would have liked to say that it was because he was determined not to do drugs anymore…But his determination had begun to wear down and, if he was pushed in the wrong direction, it would break. He'd give up.

A knock sounded at his door and, surprised, Law bolted upright, staring across the room. He slowly slipped off of his bed, warily approaching the door. He couldn't get the image of that horrific, black monster out of his head. Dipping his mental fingers into the part of his mind that controlled his devil fruit powers, he flung the door open and…froze.

"Uh, Ace! What are you doing here?" Law immediately dropped his hold on his devil fruit ability and gestured for Ace to come in. "I thought you had detention."

"Yesterday was my last day," the narco explained, collapsing on the sofa with his limbs splayed. He gently set his backpack onto the coffee table and propped a foot up next to it. "You weren't at school today."

"Ah, yes, well…" The thin boy sighed, taking a seat next to the other. "Kidd's not paying me any mind. The girls are hanging with Hawkins. I just…kind of felt left out."

"…Oh." Ace frowned at him, then shrugged, nudging his backpack closer to Law. "Well, we might be in the same boat, then. I…want to…try to quit. So…Here."

Law reached out and took hold of the bag, unzipping it. Inside was a stash of Ace's favorites. A few baggies of weed, several containers of Cellixot, and a bottle of scotch. All of Ace's favorite get-away drugs. Law was sorely tempted to take the weed and the scotch, drown his loneliness and smoke out his doubts. But, instead, he took out his phone and sent a short text to Mister Blue. Ace's visit and the thought that he wasn't alone in this made Law want to keep doing what he was doing. Quitting.

"Is this all you had?" he asked Ace.

"That's what I had hid around the school. But…I have some stashed at home for emergency use." Ace pursed his lips. "I don't know if I can just give it to you. It was hard enough to do this much."

Law nodded in understanding, knowing exactly what the other meant when he said that. "I had trouble giving mine up, too. Still, when I finally did get rid of all the drugs in this place, I…felt…I can't describe it, but it was a good feeling. Even when he took all my condoms and lube."

"I just want to make this clear, Law. I'm giving up drugs. Just drugs, not sex. Oh, yeah, here! You can take these, too," Ace said, reaching into his pocket to fish out a box of cigarettes. "That's the last pack. I'm quitting."

Law sat there as Ace stood and went to the door. "Wait…You're quitting everything but…sex?"

"Yep," the narco answered, opening the door and stepping out. He peered around it at Law. "See you at school tomorrow?"

"…Yeah…"

"Good." Ace smiled cheerily, making it seem almost sincere, then he shut the door.

Law collapsed back against his couch, feeling a little overwhelmed by his own happiness. Even if he could only save just one of his friends…That would be better than none. Much better. He clenched his fist around one of the straps on Ace's backpack, silently reminding himself that he would have to return it to Ace tomorrow…At school.

* * *

"All but the sex, huh?" Marco muttered, staring at the monitor in his office. Right now, he was watching Ace stuff his face at the dinner table. Luffy was beside him, seeming almost unfazed by all that had happened in the past two weeks. The blonde could still remember the carefree boy's not-so-carefree response to Ace's breakdown. He was hiding something. Both of them. And Marco already knew that Luffy was a mule-headed teen. If he wasn't willing to share something, it would take some extreme shit to crack his shell. Normally, he would say Ace was just as stubborn but, considering how the boy felt towards the blonde, Marco was certain he held some sway over him.

The monitor consisted of fourteen different screens, all hooked up to the cameras scattered around Ace's house. They monitored the commonly used areas, usually with good angles, except in Ace's bathroom. It had a pretty awkward angle there, but Marco thought it was deliberate. A way to keep from invading too much of the boy's privacy. Several other rooms were monitored, along with the hallways and stairs. Ace's bedroom had two different cameras in it, as did the living room seeing as those were the two main points of interest if Ace were to break down again. Ace's closet also had one but it was too dark to make out anything more than the general outline of hanging clothes and the shape of boxes and shoes on the floor.

All in all, the boy seemed fine, if a little tense. He was eating like normal, meaning he was on the verge of choking himself, and there was a chance he would fall asleep in the midst of the onslaught of food. That was Ace for you. A gay, narcoleptic glutton. But a happy one…for now. There was no telling where his mood would go from here. However, seeing as how Ace was acting like usual, Marco figured it would be okay to head to bed early himself.

* * *

I was sprawled out in my bed, the familiar warmth of my blankets enveloping me. It wasn't often that I found comfort in familiar things, but my bed usually offered me that much, at least. Whenever I would breakdown, I wouldn't destroy my bed. The sheets and the pillows, sure. But not the bed itself. There was something about it that made me feel safer. I'm not sure what. Perhaps it was because Luffy would usually sleep with me when we were younger. He'd crawl into the bed beside me and wrap his rubbery arms around my torso, making it impossible for me to escape his grasp until he'd woken. I guess my brain just associated my bed with the warmth of a living person and the reassurance that I had my family's love.

As my mental fingers dipped hesitantly into a dreamy thought produced by my half-asleep mind, a throbbing pain set in my skull, bringing me back to full consciousness. I sat up with a groan, scowling as I put my hand to my head. I spared an aggravated glance at my bathroom door. I didn't want to have to leave the warmth of my bed just to get some pain killers. However, my options were limited. Or, that's what I thought, at first. In a matter of seconds, I knew it wasn't a normal headache. I could hear a tune filling my head, muted but…familiar. Uncomfortably so.

I watched as splotches of my skin began turning to flames that licked at the air eagerly. Soon, my body was engulfed in these dancing incorporeal fingers. I closed my eyes, the pain in my skull turning into the feeling of pressure, as if someone had caught my head between their palms and was now trying to crush my cranium. Knowing that the fire wouldn't spread any further than my body, I slowly lay back on my bed, focusing on breathing through the increasing heaviness attached to my mind. When a tingling sensation scoured my entire being, soul and body, I opened my eyes. My head felt fine, as if nothing had happened. My body was no longer on fire. But I was not in my bed.

Surrounding me were tall, broad trees sprouting up out of a floor that was nothing but a mirror, cracks forming in the glass around their roots. In place of leaves, the trees had fire in all shades of orange and yellow with hints of white and blue. And, to further prove that the trees were not normal, they were 'crying' or, more appropriately, 'sweating' what appeared to be…paint. Hot globules dripped rapidly down from the limbs hanging high above me, splattering on my naked body. It ran in streams down the trunks of the trees. The paint came in varying colors of red and orange and yellow, sometimes green or brown. And where it hit the ground, the mirror absorbed it, rippling like water where the droplets fell, disturbing the reflections of the trees and the fire. The sky was full of dark, thick clouds of smog and the smell of paint and wood smoke was overpowering.

After a long moment of simply laying on my back and turning my head to look at the unusual world around me, I finally got to my feet and approached one of the trees. Seeing as how fire wouldn't hurt me, it wouldn't do any harm to climb to the top of one of the trees. Perhaps I would get a better idea of what to do next. But as I put a hand to one of the trees, my fingers sank into it, and I immediately jerked back. My hand came away with a thick, goopy, half-dried layer of warm paint clinging to my skin. There was no way I was going to be able to climb the trees. Sighing, I lowered my head to keep the paint out of my eyes and went on my way. There was no clear path to follow, but just standing around wasn't going to help me. Wandering blindly wasn't much better. However, it was the only thing I could come up with. As I wandered, I could only hear the crackle of fire and the barely existent tune I'd heard before. Pixie-Dust had once told me it was called 'Thieving Magpie' and it looped continuously inside the world of the music box. It would've become rather irritating if it wasn't so quiet.

It wasn't long before I came across something different from the rest of the scenery, something I'd seen before. A giant, ornate-looking lantern crafted from what appeared to be steel. The fire inside it was burning steadily and the lantern itself was a good seven to eight feet tall. I think it might have been a…Moroccan lantern, only of an unrealistic size. It stood in the middle of a large clearing, the glass panes ruby red and the lantern's door wide open. As if it was inviting me to delve further into what this world had to offer.

I entered the lantern, staring at the fire pit in the middle of it. There was nothing there to burn, merely white fire coming from nowhere, existing without anything to feed on. I closed the lantern door behind me and went to stand in the mysterious white flames. They surged up around my body, twisting and swirling and writhing against me. They blocked out my vision, hiding the interior of the lantern from my eyes.

When the fire finally parted, I was no longer in the lantern, but rather in a large circular room. I stepped out of the middle of a pile of candles of varying shapes and sizes, the fire shrinking back to a normal height. Scattered about the room were even more candles, melted wax having run down the sides of them to glue them onto the gold and white mosaic floor. There were as many mirrors as there were candles. Some small, some large, some square, some oval. They hung from the ceiling and dangled dangerously close to my head. Some of the larger ones hung directly in front of the violet walls, out of the way, nearly completely shielded from view by long, heavy violet drapes with golden tassels. A single round table was literally floating in the middle of the room, along with two high-back chairs. On the table was a crystal ball and a stack of tarot cards, seemingly unaffected by the tipsy levitating of the surface they sat upon. Seated in one of the chairs was a girl with smooth bronze skin and shoulder-length chocolate hair, dressed in a wine red robe embellished with crystals and lace. She looked to be about six years old with sparkling amber eyes and tiny fingers nearly covered by her filly sleeves. Perched on the back of her chair was a raven wearing a bird's skull only slightly larger than its own. Its shiny black eyes peered through the empty eye sockets of its makeshift helmet, focusing directly on me. It immediately glanced away, but soon its gaze wandered back.

The little girl didn't even glance up from her cards when her cheeks flared with bright pink. "Ace, you're…naked?"

"…I tend to sleep in the nude." The feel of the bird's eyes boring down on me almost made me want to cover my paint-coated privates.

"Poe, get him one of the guest sartorial rings," the girl said, staring blankly ahead.

At the girl's voice, the raven then opened its wings and dove beak-first into the crystal ball. It's smooth surface shimmered but, otherwise, seemed untouched. The bird, however, had disappeared. Not a moment later, it reappeared and came towards me, clutching a small box in its talons.

I accepted the box, opening it only after the bird had returned to its rightful spot near the girl. Sighing, I examined the gaudy ring that had been given to me and reluctantly slipped it on. The instant it settled onto my finger, the large diamond on it began to glitter and glow. When next I looked down, the paint on my body was gone and I was actually wearing clothes. The power of the sartorial rings, obviously. To provide clothing where there is none. A very handy item, if I say so myself, but only when the creator of the sartorial ring has a sense of fashion. Considering where I was, I couldn't expect the rings to give me something appeasing to look at. However, it was better to walk around in something unappealing than nothing at all.

Currently, thanks to the ring, I was dressed in a dark teal suit, coattails and all, with a silver and grey striped vest and maroon bowtie. My hair was in a French fishtail braid close to my skull, from the top of my head to the back of my neck. Seeing as how my hair wasn't exactly short nor long, there were multiple pins holding down stray strands.

"You clean up nicely," the girl told me, toying absent-mindedly with the card in her hand. "Very nice. I like the hair."

"Yeah, well, I don't," I responded, going to carefully sit down on the other chair. It wasn't a stationary object seeing as it dipped and swayed slightly no matter how still I sat, not something I was used to when it came to seating. "I'm not big on putting my hair up."

She flicked her finger on the corner of the card, making a soft 'tsk tsk' sound. "You should. It really defines your face and jaw. Not to say you're not attractive with it down. You are. But a different kind of attractive. You have a certain exotic masculinity with it up and a rebellious pretty-boy quality when it's down."

At that, I didn't quite know what to say. Maybe it was best not to say anything. I knew the little girl well enough to know that it would be wise not to get on her bad side. Not that she had much of one. Surprisingly enough, she had more patience than even Marco. However, patient as she may be, innocent she was not. She'd killed before. More than once. Or so I'd been told. Of course, Chloe had never admitted to it. Nor had she ever denied it. And, really, it wasn't hard to believe considering everything.

This was the world inside the music box. The only way I can explain this world to someone is by starting from the bottom and going up. Otherwise, it gets pretty confusing. Pixie-Dust was bound to the music box. I mean, many living pixies were naturally bound to it, but he was the…king of them. In short, it was his music box and the other pixies bound to it were his subordinates. He, in all actuality, wasn't the first one to rule the world it contained. About ten years ago, he challenged the previous pixie 'king' to a duel and won his rights to the music box. He'd been the ruler since and often have other pixies tried to take his place on the throne. But you were less likely to run into a pixie in the music box than you were if you were in the outside world. Which means, because of the lack of pixies, I'd heard all the rules from the victims of the pixies.

First, anyone who shares a mental link with a pixie…will eventually end up here to rot for eternity. There's no Heaven or Hell (at least, not the Christian one) you get to look forward to or dread, depending on where you feel you're more likely to go. No, for us, those afflicted by pixies, after we die…our souls get trapped inside the music box. It doesn't matter if the pixie dies before you. You shared a link with it and it shares a link with the music box. By binding human souls and minds to its mind and soul, it's binding them to the world inside the box. Even if the pixies all die out, if box does not cease to exist...it still presents a problem. And the age you'll be eternally stuck at all depends on when your mental link was strongest before your death. Chloe's mental link with her pixie was strongest as a child, probably because she'd been easily scared back then and that's about the time she was most frightened by it.

Second, if someone does manage to destroy the music box, the souls that are bound to it will…simply disappear. No more Chloe and no more Poe. No more world inside the music box. No more me and no more pixies. There were many more of these music boxes once upon a time. A few still remain. This music box is one of the 'survivors'…unfortunately. Of course, the government doesn't know diddly-squat about the music boxes. They think that they're simply the pixies' lifelines. They don't know about the trapped souls or the way things work on the inside. If they did, I'm not sure how they'd react.

Third, once a link is formed, it can't be broken, but it can be used to drag humans into the box, whether they're alive or not, which is how I got into my current mess. The mental link with Pixie-Dust…He used it to pull me into the music box, a feat that calls for a lot of power…And, when it came to him, it also calls for a bad situation with a good amount of desperation.

Links are formed through…dreams. A good example is how Pixie-Dust came to me through a dream. That was the formation of the link and you're probably wondering why pixies would want to bind themselves to a human mind for any amount of time, considering how condescending they come across as. Well, it works to their benefit. The more souls they trap inside the music box, the stronger and smarter they become. Each pixie bound to that music box is equally strong, so their wits are literally all they have to depend on when it comes to infighting. But when fighting with outsiders… They happen to have the upper hand. Telepathy, illusions, mind-control, strength and speed. Pixies don't like humans. That's a given. They're power-thirsty, prideful monsters with working brains. Humans on the other hand…are simply power-thirsty, prideful monsters. Example being that the government doesn't even realize that it's literally handing it's enemy power it will eventually use against them. They'll suffer the same fate as the criminals they give to the pixies. Yeah, I can imagine how that would stir up the world inside. Hey, Akainu…you killed Chloe and now she's trapped in the form of her younger self and can only see out of the eyes of a bird. She's going to strap you to her table and put you through an eternity of agony. Welcome to Hell.

Fourth, devil fruit abilities were on and off things. They might work in one room, but not in another, such as Chloe's room. I knew for a fact that devil fruit abilities didn't work in here. The spots that they don't work in are called cold spots and spots that devil fruit powers act up in are called hot spots. And water inside the music box wasn't like water on the outside. I didn't sink like a fucking rock here. But, besides all of that, things are pretty normal, as far as devil fruit abilities go.

Fifth, the inside. Anything can happen inside this world. If trees can be made from paint and tables can levitate, then it's not that hard to believe that you can walk through walls and drown in rain puddles. And, yes, we can die inside the music box. But we'll simply be 'reborn' in a year or so. One thing to keep in mind is that we can't starve, but we can die from pretty much anything else. Still…From what I hear, the process of rebirth isn't very pleasant. A year of torture or something like that.

Speaking of birth…Pregnancies weren't unheard of. There were those who had been born inside the music box and didn't know much about the outside world. Their idea of normal was levitating tables and drowning in roadside puddles. They'd never been outside of this world.

Last, but not least, time runs differently on the inside. If you're merely a visitor, it's very important to keep track of how long you've been inside. A few days too many and you're going to be in pain for a while after you get back. When I say a few days, that's about the same as a few hours on the outside. It's usually okay to spend about a month on the inside, maybe two, before going back home is agony on the physical form. It's not fun and it takes a bit before your emotional being is back to normal. So…Like I said, keep track of time on the inside. Considering day and night didn't apply to many of the rooms, buying a pocket watch in the market district was a wonderful thing to do. Actually, that's where I planned to go once I was done talking to Chloe.

"Why did Pixie-Dust go to the trouble of summoning me?"

Chloe tilted her head, scooping up her cards and shuffling them quietly for a minute. "Several other pixies have challenged his rule but, right now, he's not-"

"In the best of shape. Yeah. I know. But what does that have to do with me?" I asked, frowning at her cards. "I'm not going to be of much help to him."

"Oh, yes, you are," she answered, smirking. "Because there were those of them who challenged him at the same time, he made them all a deal. He would summon you into the music box and whoever brought you back to him first would get one wish granted as long as it was in his power. Such as being given the right to be the first to duel with him. However, he didn't specify whether to bring you back dead or alive. Oh, and you can't leave the music box until this whole mess is over with."

I froze, my lips parting slightly. She didn't seriously mean…what I thought she meant, did she? "Shit…So I either get lucky and one of them decides to bring me in alive or…I die. What the hell was Pixie-Dust thinking?!"

"Actually, he was being pretty damned smart. If you go to him yourself, you'll have nothing to worry about. It'll mean that none of the others were able to catch you and you brought yourself to him, so you'll get to decide whether to duel him or get a wish granted. Anything in his power." She drew three cards from her deck and placed them facedown on the table. "But you would only be able to ask for one thing. Just one."

"…What do the cards say?" I asked, looking at my hands. I had a feeling that when or if I got to Pixie-Dust on my terms…there would be a twist and I wouldn't get the 'perfect' wish. Maybe the cards would tell me more about my fate.

Chloe gave me a mysterious smile and, with a flick of her wrist, she flipped one of the cards over. Poe's head tilted and he shifted slightly atop his perch. "Queen of Pentacles, hm…"

"And…that means what exactly?"

She closed her eyes, leaning against the back of her chair. Her fingers rested on the card and she breathed deeply before saying, "The Queen refers to you, or someone who strongly influenced your life, but does not have to be female. Her outdoor throne, surrounded by Earth's prosperity and abundance, denotes that she takes charge of money matters in a cautious and practical manner, and that she is successful in her business dealings. Her productivity and creativity are symbolized by the appearance of several blooming plants, and the hare, traditionally associated with fertility. This person valued her self-sufficient independence and worked hard to maintain her 'creature comforts.' In other words, this someone somehow played a large role in influencing you and getting you where you are now. It's usually something they've done recently."

"Marco was the one who injured Pixie-Dust in the first place…But Pixie-Dust is the one who summoned me here and he's made me into something of a freak. But…it mentions creativity." I paused, rubbing at my mouth thoughtfully. "It's probably referring to Marco. Then again…Pixie-Dust is creative when it comes to torturing me. Still…It says something about productivity and Pixie-Dust hasn't made much progress in the last four years. It's probably referring to Marco. What's next?"

Chloe swept hair out of her face and then flipped the next card over. "The Page of Swords."

I made a get-on-with-it motion with my hand, one that Poe glowered at me for.

"Frequently, the Page of Swords refers to you, or someone in your life. He seeks higher ground, using his standpoint to master difficulties. He watches for trouble over his shoulder. In the card, the wind blows the trees and his hair, symbolizing changing circumstances, unpredictable behaviors, and wavering opinions in the current situation. Flexibility and adaptability are key." Chloe stroked the card lovingly. "This one refers to your present situation, or one close at hand, and should be held in consideration throughout your next journey. Remember flexibility and adaptability."

I gave a sharp nod and gestured for her to continue.

She smiled approvingly and flipped the last card. "The Seven of Wands. It's a card of defense and confrontation. You will be forced to face a conflict head on. You will be cornered and will have no choice but to confront the source of the turmoil. While you are usually successful at what you do and respected by many, there are those around you who would seek to knock you off the throne you've worked so hard to obtain. Your only choices will be to forfeit what you've worked for or to fight. Wands represent passion and fire and these are what you feel when on your throne. Use your vantage point at the top of the mountain to strategically plot your next move. This will not be a time for compromise. You must adhere to your deeply held beliefs if you want to succeed in the battle. Be ready and keep this in mind. It is in your future.

"…Now, then, Ace. I believe it's time you went to Pink-Lady. There's someone there you should speak with." She reached forward, lifting the crystal ball from it's clawed-foot pedestal and tilting it. As it tilted, so did the room. I flung my hands out, hoping to grab onto to something, but it was too late. I started falling to the side, my body going straight for one of the larger mirrors on the wall.

"Shit!" I threw my arms over my head and squeezed my eyes shut. My shoulder connected with the mirror's surface and I felt a sharp sting, then my body slid through. As if I was going through water. The next thing I knew I was collapsed on a floor, someone screaming and thrashing under me. I scowled, scrambling to my feet as I muttered, "Damned girl doesn't know how to properly send her guests off."

* * *

**_I'd like to know what you guys think of the tarot card readings. What do you see in the readings? Some of it is blatantly obvious, in my honest opinion. But, hey, who knows? I'm the one who writes it. If it wasn't obvious to me, then we'd be trouble._**

**_Oh, and I'd like to thank everyone for their patience. I'm so sorry this took so long._**


	16. Most Guys Aren't Gay

"I'm sorry," I repeated, smiling apologetically. "But, to be fair, I was just as surprised as you were."

"Ace," Lavish hissed in warning, dabbing a wet rag at the stray streak of eyeliner. It went from the outer corner of his eye, down his cheek, and to the edge of his jaw. "What the hell are you even doing here? You should be running for your life. There are pixies hunting for you. _As we speak_."

"I already knew about that. But Chloe's the one who sent me here," I told him, going to run a hand through my hair but stopping when my fingers met hairpins. "She said there was someone in the market who I should meet up with."

"Hmph…She probably meant Captain Knick." Lavish leaned back from his vanity, flashing his pearly whites at his reflection. The eyeliner was in a shade of dark purple, somehow managing to work with bright pink eye shadow and his caramel-colored gaze. He was wearing a bubble-gum pink dress, the pleated skirt falling to mid-thigh and the waist adorned with a wide belt. It was paired with shimmering white pantyhose and pink high heels. His copper-colored hair was done up in a curly ponytail that bounced with every movement of his slim neck, which was swathed in strings of shiny pearls. He actually looked like a girl…Well, even when he dressed like a guy, he looked like a girl. Very feminine features, you know. "Fixed."

"I really am sorry for messing you up," I told him, again.

Lavish merely waved off my apologies, muttering incoherently under his breath. He reached into the top drawer of his vanity and brought out a glass box full of lipsticks. His vanity had several drawers to either side, while various jewelry boxes sat atop of it. Behind him was his bed, semi-transparent pink curtains suspended around it, doing a poor job of hiding the multitude of pillows and blankets he kept messily sprawled on the mattress. On the other side of the bed was the door to his closet, currently open, showing a mass of clothes dangling above shoes, which were aligned neatly on the floor with the toes pointed towards the walls.

Lavish was the owner of Pink-Lady, the market district, and his posh house was located above it. Literally. Right above it. His house was carved into a giant, floating mess of crystals that glowed. They never stopped glowing. It was an eternal thing. Kind of like the music box was an eternal thing. The majority of the crystals were…crystal clear and glowed white, although there were some that were flecked with pink and orange.

Once Lavish was done coating his lips with a glittery pink lipstick, he stood and took my elbow, leading me to the door. He opened it, revealing three crystal steps that ended in empty air. He moved his hand to my back and, as I started to protest, he shoved me.

Of course, I screamed out of surprise there for a minute. Falling eight hundred feet to a normal person's death isn't something I do daily. Although, now that I think about it, it would be a great way to have fun with Luffy. Just jump off the side of Drum Mountain. We could even have a short conversation on the way down. I'd probably ask him about his relationship with Zoro and then we'd hit the ground and I'd have to wait until we went for another jump just to get the answer out of him. Still, the fall would give me that really cool feeling of my guts doing flips inside of me. We'd likely have a lot of fun and be super excited afterwards. Then again…The melted snow might drown us.

Right…I was in the midst of falling, Lavish's house above me and the market below. No time for thoughts of male bonding. …Do you want to know what it's like? Not the male bonding, but the falling eight hundred feet part? I'll tell you. It's just like falling eight feet off the roof of your tool shed out back. Only you have a lot more time to think about what's at the end of your trip and just enough time to contemplate exactly how bad things will turn out.

It didn't turn out as bad as I expected. Yeah, sure, I burst into a massive ball of flames when I connected with the ground and, yeah, sure, people ran away screaming in fear…But, hey, on the bright side, once my flames were back under my control, the crowd calmed down and experienced an 'oh, it's _human_' facial-expression epidemic.

I cautiously got to my feet, trying not to startle anyone, even as I brushed my suit off. Raising a single hand in an awkward wave of acknowledgement to all the people gathering nearby, I gave my surroundings a thorough glance over.

The street was wide, made completely from unusual (meaning, I would never see them outside of the world of the music box) multihued seashells, sporting extravagant carriages here and there, all drawn by exotic stags with pristine snowy white fur and large golden antlers decorated in strings of pearls. The shops were built from the same type of crystals as those that floated above, only opaque and full of bright colors, such as green or blue or red. They had large windows that displayed their products, strongly stating what kind of merchandise they had to offer. A strong scent of honeysuckle permeated the air with underlying hints of flowery perfume and masculine cologne, cotton candy and fresh mint, coffee beans and whiskey. If I stayed here long enough, I'm sure the smells would give me a migraine. Not that they were bad _alone_, but all mixed up…No.

The people that clogged the sides of the street were decked out in their finest clothing. The women in cheerful dresses and diamond necklaces. The men in vibrant suits and puffing on smoking pipes. Many of them walked arm in arm, while others took rides in the carriages. I carefully made my way through the crowd, trying to ignore the fact that they were staring at me with amusement and curiosity. Damned people got over their fear quicker than they puffed on their pipes.

I moved in the direction I assumed the docks would be at. That's where the clock shop and the bars were. If I knew Captain Knick like I thought I did, then he was going to be at a bar somewhere near the piers. Not that he was a drinker, though he did drink occasionally, but his crew was full of hardcore booze-lovers… And he had a tendency of indulging in watching them make fools of themselves. So, with that in mind, I knew where to look for him first…However, I was in dire need of a pocket watch. Having been given enough time to actually think, I'd already gotten my priorities straightened out. Get some money, buy a pocket watch, and then find Captain Knick.

The best way to get quick money in the music box…was to steal it. But that was inadvisable. Who knew how the people would respond if I happened to get caught? It would be best to go to a friend of mine. I went a few blocks, pausing every now and then as I passed an interesting shop, only to continue on my way. The lack of money was an obvious reminder that I wasn't at home anymore.

Turning a corner, I saw that I had come to a cul-de-sac. There were two buildings, one rather small, a shop, and the other made of purple and blue crystal with two stories and large curtained windows. Surrounding the house was an unkempt maze of honeysuckle that was letting off that cloying, saccharine scent, almost overpowering without the distance to soften the blow to my nose. Still, I sucked it up and approached, slipping through the ajar gate and on up to the stairs. Raising a hand, I rapped my knuckles against the crystal door and took a small step back. I didn't have to wait long before a woman came rushing out, throwing her arms around me.

"Ace! Oh, it's so good to see you alive!"

I patted her back awkwardly, not sure where to put my hands. If she had been a man, I might have acted a bit more natural. It was much easier for me to handle physical contact with males than with females. "Um, yeah. You, too…" I responded hesitantly, trying to think of a way to get her off of me.

It's not that I didn't like her. Quite the contrary. She was entertaining and she was really nice to me on my first visit to the world of the music box. I could think of several others who were much worse than she was.

"Oh, Ace, you look so handsome. Good enough to eat," Yvette said, pulling away from me to give me a good look. Her eyes flicked over me appreciatively. "It's too bad you're gay. I'd really like a piece of you. Oh! What am I saying? Come inside! Come on!"

I sidled past her, into the house, and made my way into the living room. I knew her house well-enough to know the basic layout. I stood there uncomfortably, wanting to hurry and leave the market district. I was beginning to get an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach, something telling me that things weren't going to work out as smoothly as I was hoping. Yvette silently took a chair, one of the winged kind that are really expensive, folding her hands in her lap elegantly. Her house reminded me of Lavish's. Girly, mostly neat, kind of extravagant decorations. That kind of stuff. She was the one who designed it that way and, if she really liked it, there wasn't much else I could say, now was there? Yvette herself was extravagant and girly.

She had extremely curly blonde hair cut off at her shoulders, brightly colored makeup, a strapless white dress with a frilly skirt that fell to her knees, and the jewelry…Oh, the jewelry. The silver bands, chains, rings, and dangly ear adornments…Enough of them to make me think her arms and neck must hurt holding that much extra weight. But none of that really ever made me pause and stare in awe. It was her eyes. They were blue. So great a resemblance to Marco's dreamy aqua eyes. But hers were just a shade too bright. And she was missing that emotion that Marco always had. There was always something in his lingering gaze. I wasn't quite sure what it was but I knew it was very important. It made Marco who he was, who I _loved_.

Yvette reached out and grabbed a golden cookie off of a platter on the coffee table. She placed the cookie in her mouth and then tapped her fingernail on the corner of the dish, gesturing for me to come closer. "Do you remember the first time you came here? You gobbled down all of my cookies and cakes. Wouldn't talk to me until I'd filled your belly up with snacks."

I smiled fondly, remembering how she'd waited at my side as I ate, passing me plate after plate of sweets. "Yeah. I swear I gained ten pounds in that one sitting."

"Most guys don't worry about their weight," she responded, grinning cheerfully as I came closer and took a cookie.

"Most guys aren't gay." I ate the cookie in one bite, my teeth cutting through the soft, crumbly golden shell. The center was just gooey enough and warm enough with a strong hazelnut flavor and a hint of chocolate. …Oh…How I loved her cooking. It was almost as good as Sanji's. Almost.

"So, how are things on the outside? Good? Bad?" she questioned, nibbling on her own cookie. "Not as bad as in here, I hope."

"It's actually pretty bad. Everything's gone to Hell. Pixie-Dust had gotten my family and friends involved in the whole mess." I stuffed another cookie in my mouth. "I'm supposed to be quitting drugs…but I don't know how that's going to go after this."

"That damned pixie! He's always going for the people we care about!" Yvette snarled, her eyes darkening with rage. She'd been under Pixie-Dust's thumb for a while and she knew exactly what it was like to deal with him. Still, she had a bad habit of lashing out when pissed, so it'd be wise to leave before she let her thoughts wander too far down memory lane.

"I hate to cut my visit short," I started, only to be brought to a halt by her scoff.

"Money, right? I figured you might come for some. So, here. Spend it wisely." She was smiling softly when she reached into the front of her dress, right down the front, into her cleavage, and brought out a small box. She tossed it to me, pursing her lips. "It's really too bad you can't stay longer…but I understand. The big bad pixies are after you and it's best not to stay in one place for too long."

I nodded in agreement, clutching the box close as I turned away from her. I hated for it to be such a short visit, one that only involved a small amount of conversation and some money, but I really, really didn't want to linger any longer. Her impending rage being only part of the reason. The other part? The steel ball in my gut.

"Ace," Yvette called from her spot in her chair. "I'm glad you came by. I feel a lot better just knowing you're okay…So, stay that way, alright? Beat the pixies at their own game. Shake the foundations of this damned world and give us something to think about."

I gave her a crooked grin, chuckling. "I wouldn't do it any other way."

After I'd stepped outside and closed the door behind me, I opened the box to find a stack of poker cards inside. I plucked them out of the bag and shuffled them, smiling when I saw that it was made up completely of kings, queens, and aces. This was more than enough to get me a pocket watch. Yvette was so generous. I glanced across the street at the small shop and made my way in that direction.

* * *

Captain Knick's men surrounded him, laughing and drinking. He didn't seem to be drinking alcohol, though he did take the time to chat up the waitress and even sneak a peak at her backside. None of the men playing cards seemed to mind his feet being propped up on the table. Everyone seemed perfectly at ease, cheerful, listening to the music that came from the vintage jukebox in the far corner. All of the furniture in the bar was made out of red and white crystal and black leather. The bottles lined up behind the bar were filled with glowing neon liquids and there were assortments of unidentified fruits that leaked colorful juices. The employees of the joint were dressed in outfits of red and black. Meaning, the bartender was in an open red vest and loose black slacks while the waitresses wore skin-tight red short shorts and revealing black bustiers.

I was here for Captain Knick, not an attractive, mysterious bartender with a great smile. I bit my lip and forced myself to look away, towards the captain. He looked to be about fourteen, wearing a plum purple hoodie along with white cargo shorts and black motorbike boots. He had short, messy auburn hair and dark green eyes framed by thick-rimmed glasses. He was cute…in a child-like way, which was likely why the waitresses weren't taking his flirtatious comments seriously, even though he was probably putting all his heart and sincerity into every word he spoke. That was just the kind of guy he was. Sincere, upfront, and passionate. Still, he was cursed with a baby face. But, just as time would never change his face, nothing would change his unwavering love for firm butts and bouncy tits…even the knowledge that he wasn't likely to get them in his bed.

I pulled a chair out from under one of his men, who sprawled out on the floor, laughing his drunken ass off. Pulling my newly won seat up next to Captain Knick, I plopped down in it, crossing my arms on the chair back. For a moment, he didn't notice me. He was too busy making moves on the pretty brunette serving him an arrangement of sizzling, skewered meat.

Captain Knick was smiling cheerily at her, meeting her stern gaze unflinchingly. "My buddies bet me that I wouldn't be able to start a conversation with the most beautiful girl in the bar. Wanna buy some drinks with their money?"

"Sir, you're drunk," the woman told him, sweeping her hair out of her face.

"I'm not drunk. I'm just intoxicated by you," he replied, his grin widening.

She merely rolled her eyes and set his drink down in front of him, then turned to leave. Captain Knick watched her ass as she swished her hips over to the other side of the bar, where the burlier, manlier men were. Then, taking his glass, he stood on his chair and faced his crew.

"Men! Indulge yourselves tonight for we set out in the morning!" His voice was strong and clear above all the ruckus, delivering his message easily. His crew thrust their drinks in the air and cheered, all the happier after the news. Captain Knick collapsed back into his chair, grinning from ear to ear. It didn't take him long to notice me and, once his eyes settled on me, his grin transformed into a grimace. "…Ace."

"Captain Knick," I said. I had nothing against him and I was sure he had nothing against me, either…But we hadn't had the time to be friends when we first met. Still, he was happy to help the last time I was in a pickle. "I need a little assistance."

He slowly leaned back in his chair, hesitantly offering me a shish kabob. "…The pixies are after you, you know?"

I accepted the food gratefully, ripping the succulent nubs off the skewer one by one. Once done, I set the wooden stick back on his plate and grabbed another, holding myself back and nibbling as I talked. "I actually need to get to Pixie-Dust before the pixies get to me. I was hoping you'd be willing to help."

"…Well…I don't want to put my men in too much danger…And pixies are…Ace, if I take you aboard my ship, I'll be risking the lives of my crewmembers and myself," Captain Knick started, but he paused when he saw my face start to fall. "Okay, how about this? I'll take you to Batida, but you have to get to Caipirinha yourself."

"Not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but…I thought you were worried about safety?" I paused in my nibbling, watching him over the skewer.

He gave a slight shrug, stealing the skewer from me as his grin came back in full force. "You'll only be with us for two days, so what's the worst that could happen?"

* * *

Thankfully, Captain Knick was willing to give me another sartorial ring and a private room on his ship. My new attire was a simple black long-sleeved shirt, camo cargo shorts, and white sneakers. I had my sleeves rolled up to my elbows because it was rather warm out and I had taken to staying in the crow's nest, staring out at the crystalline, sparkling water down below. I remember how, before we left Pink-Lady, I'd taken note of how the water was so clean and clear I could see straight down to the large expanse of colorful coral decorating the sea floor near the docks. There were so many varieties of fish swimming in the water, some seen outside of the music box, others only seen on the inside. But, now that we were further away, the sea floor was merely white sand and the occasional school of fish. Still, being able to see the bottom said a lot about the water and how you would be hard-pressed to find a sea this translucent outside of the music box.

"Are you worried?"

I glanced away from the vast sea, turning to face Captain Knick. Smiling, I said, "Not really, no. Not yet, anyways. I probably will be once I see how bad of a mood Pixie-Dust is in."

"Considering everything, he seems pretty damn cheerful." Captain Knick puffed out a breath and looked up at the sky, his eyes trained on a stray cloud. "How…How was he injured?"

At this, I grinned, recalling the day I got to see Marco's devil fruit power. Unforgettable. "Well, he attacked me and…Long story short, my big brother put a chunk of his horn through him. It was quite the battle and, if not for my bro, I'd be dead."

Captain Knick's brows rose and he muttered, "I'm surprised you've survived this long. You'd think Pixie-Dust would have killed you long before now."

"He's sticking with me more for the challenge of breaking me than anything else," I told him, leaning back against the rail of the crow's nest. "Unfortunately for Pixie-Dust, I think of him as more of a stabilizer. He keeps me from doing stupid shit I'd likely regret come morn. Then again, he's also a nightmare of sorts and keeps putting me in dangerous situations, such as my current one."

"Sounds like you don't know whether you want him around or not," Captain Knick pointed out, draping his arms over the railing.

I closed my eyes, leaning my head back and letting the light warm my face. Captain Knick was right. I didn't know whether I wanted to suffer with Pixie-Dust at my side, who was someone I could blame when I hit a rough spot in life, or whether I wanted to suffer alone with only myself to blame when my happiness ran out. Luffy would always be there for me. I was certain. But…I couldn't bring myself to lash out at him for my own gain. Especially if I ended up being upset over…Marco. Sometimes, I wondered when I really, truly started crushing on him. Hell, I couldn't quite put my finger on the reason why I started thinking about him in a sexual way. I guess…admiration turned into affection and affection led to lustful thinking. I was your typical horny and attractive gay guy hooked on drugs. …Damn. I really needed to stop demoralizing myself.

I opened my eyes and sent a sidelong glance off to my right, where Captain Knick patiently waited. "Hey…Captain Kn-"

"Briar. Call me Briar," he interrupted, frowning slightly. "I'd much prefer it."

I paused, then smiled. "Alright…Briar. Do you think it'd be too much trouble to ask for a map?"

He grinned and stretched his arms over his head. "No, not at all. Follow me and we'll see what we have for you."

* * *

By the time I'd gotten my map and plotted my course, it was time for dinner. Briar led me to the mess hall and sat me down next to him. While the music box wasn't my favorite place, for several reasons, I had to admit that it had some really good food and a bunch of interesting people. The only thing that went wrong during dinner was…Well, let's just say narcolepsy is a bitch and leave it at that.

After dinner, I showered and then hit the sack. I had a long day ahead of me tomorrow. If Briar's navigator was correct, then we'd reach the portal shortly after breakfast and be at Batida before the day was out. I didn't exactly like Batida, so I didn't plan to stay there for long. I was going to go straight to Jack-Rosé, spend a night there, then head to Nikolaschka. I wanted to talk to someone there. A pixie…but someone who might be able to help me with something.

* * *

I was in the midst of shoving an entire juicy length of…some type of dark blue meat…down my gullet when a man came dashing into the mess hall. He paused in the doorway then shouted, "Portal sighted!"

That caused quite the ruckus, men leaping to their feet, and making for the door. Briar hopped to his own feet and shouted, "Finish your breakfast, men! We don't waste food around here! …We can't afford it…"

Hearing that, I, in a fashion similar to that of the rest of the crew, shoveled my food into my mouth, forced it down my throat, and gulped my booze in hopes of clearing the way for air. Being one of the first few to finish, I jumped up from my seat and went to see the portal. I clambered up the rigging with ease, slipped into the crow's nest next to one of the crewmen, and accepted the proffered telescope. Sure enough, the portal was there. A thick layer of steam continuously rising from the surface of the water, shimmering with flashes of color. We were headed right for it. We'd go in and come out the other side in Batida. I handed the telescope back to the man and returned to the deck. Briar met up with me at the bow, the end of a slice of meat sticking out of his mouth as he chewed what remained of his food.

"Here," he said around his breakfast, holding a gas mask out for me. "It won't be long before we enter Batida, so go ahead and put that on."


	17. Puppy-Chow

Marco sat up in bed, scowling as he rubbed at his face. He was having trouble getting to sleep. He'd been lying there for a good hour and a half, wrapped up in his covers, and wondering why he couldn't just close his eyes and pass out. He should feel relaxed, happy even. Ace was improving, quitting the drugs…yet, something was bothering him. He felt like he should know what, but every time he went over everything in his head…There was nothing that popped out at him as wrong. He slipped out of bed and went downstairs, thinking watching TV and grading papers was better than tossing and turning in his blankets.

Something was seriously wrong and, if it was a big enough deal, it would make itself apparent sooner or later. But, until then, if he wasn't going to sleep, then he was going to do something productive.

* * *

As the ship finally left the thick steam, I took a look around. The gas mask darkened my vision significantly, blurring it around the edges, but it didn't hide the hideous world ahead of me. The water was no longer clear, but a sea of inky darkness. Floating inside that disgusting black liquid were dead birds and fish and litter, such as bottles and bags. I could smell the filth even through the gas mask and it nearly made me gag. It was a mix of fish, pitch, burnt hair, and wood smoke. It didn't help that the liquid was so hot that it boiled, bubbles rising to the surface to pop and spray gobs of blackness up through the air. The sky was dark with smoke and an endless supply of ash rode on the high winds. In front of the ship was Batida, a large island coated in a sheet of white and grey dust. Lava flowed freely from the volcano at its center, smoke pouring up into the heavens as what little trees grew on the island went up in flames. The small villages that dotted the coast were currently unharmed, the docks open for business, meaning it was almost time for me and Briar to part ways.

The buildings of the villages of Batida were crafted from a white stone with mottled silver veins, seeming to be impervious to the lava. Still, impervious or not, everything was erected on thick columns twenty to thirty feet high. Even the docks were high above the inky black water, rope ladders hanging down from the edges to where small row boats waited. Nasty, tar-stained fishing nets were rolled up in the boats, making it apparent that the people here did in fact catch things from the repulsive water.

The ship was brought in close to one of the docks, just close enough for me to jump from the rigging and catch one of the lower rungs of a ladder. Briar made sure to keep the ship far enough away from the docks to discourage any of the natives from trying to make a jump for his ship. He was a nice guy, but not nice enough to give disease-infested people free rides. He had his crew to think about and disease at sea wasn't all that easy to handle.

I climbed up the ladder and came face to face with a small gathering of people. There were more coming, willing to risk an encounter with lava just to get closer to the ship, a vessel to their freedom. But the ship was out of their reach and Briar wasn't turning back. I watched as he sailed off, ignoring it as a serpent large enough to swallow a row boat whole popped up out of the water. Gooey black sludge dripped off of its frilled cranium and jagged yellow fangs, but didn't seem to bother it. Instead, its bottomless green eyes gazed longingly at the ship. However, the serpent wasn't near big enough to eat Briar's ship, so it dove back under.

Reluctantly, I turned back to the people and almost felt sorry for them. Almost. I _would've _felt sorry for them if I didn't know how cowardly they really were. There was another way out. On this very island. I understood that it was a long journey and certain death for those who would falter in the face of genuine danger, but it was an escape. If they were truly desperate to leave, that was the way to go. I mean, it was the way I was going. But very few were going to even think about attempting it, because cowards are cowards.

I looked them up and down, my eyes tracking over skinny bodies and sleepless eyes. Many were balding even though they looked rather young. Their fingers were stained black, their feet were bare and beat up, and several were scarred from severe burns. They had rotting, discolored teeth and gum sores that oozed pus. The men were dressed in baggy pants tied to their thin hips with strips torn from fishing nets and the women wore oversized shirts that would probably be the only clothing items they wore their entire lives…unless a family member passed away. Then they might get something out of it.

I stepped forward and they parted, eyes wide as they stared at me. Many had empty, lifeless gazes but others were full of envy. I just kept walking. I didn't rest in one of their skimpy little shops or stop to give a beggar some money. If they were on the ground where the lava could get them, then that probably meant that they had a deadly disease and their family evicted them from their home. They were going to die soon and I wasn't chancing catching that disease. If I died here, I'd never leave again. If they died, they'd come back to life in a year or so, perfectly healthy. Seriously, you'd think that the fact that they couldn't really, truly die would give them the courage needed to get their asses out of the damned place. If they would stop being such cowards, they could get help.

It was just like hobos outside of the music box. There are shelters meant for homeless people, where they give them access to food, water, and a bath, and yet there are people too damned stupid to accept help from places that offer it. Instead, they sit on the side of the road and beg for money from those that pass by. Pfft. I'm not going to help them when there is somewhere they can go to get help. The only reason they don't want to go to a shelter is because they don't hand them money that they can spend on whatever they want. Oh, so you can't waste it on the booze that made you homeless in the first place? Boohoo. I donate lots of money to shelters and charities. I don't put my cash in the hands of those who won't use it to help others get their lives in order. They're not going to do that. They're going to buy beer when they don't even have a fridge to put it in. That's utter bullshit. All they have to do is go to a shelter, eat, take a bath, and get some clean clothes. Then go look for a fucking job. It's not the end of the world.

Too many years of Pixie-Dust's influence had turned me cold far too many ways for me to count. But that wasn't one of them. I've always had that kind of mind about the homeless and what they could do to get out of their situation. Maybe being raised as a rich brat with too much time on his hands made me see things that way…Still, I didn't care. I believed what I believed and I wasn't going to change my ways just because some hobo didn't like that I wasn't giving him his beer money.

…Shit. I really needed to stop ranting in my head. It wasn't getting me anywhere. Well, it was a great way to pass the time, considering I'd made the walk from the village to the bottom of the volcano in what felt like a few minutes. I wasn't even really aware of my surroundings during the trip. I shrugged it off and glanced up at the large volcano, molten rivers of lava flowing down the slope unhurriedly. I'd walked this path before and wasn't afraid to do it again. About two-thirds of the way up the steep mountain was a building. It had been built by the Traveler's Guild. Yes, in the music box, it existed. Nearly every individual 'room' (as we liked to call them) had a Traveler's Guild cabin. Sometimes, the 'cabins' turned out to be mansions. Sometimes, it really was an average-looking cabin. Whatever it was, it was built with the room in mind. So, lava and icky black water? Not a problem. In the cabin, there would be unpolluted drinking water, a first aid kit, a working bath, and a clean room to rest in. If I made it to the cabin, I'd be able to relax and rest for a bit. Clean up a little, drink some water, make sure not to get any diseases. Yeah, that last one would be nice. Figuring that was as good as my plan was going to get, I cracked my knuckles and started my long hike.

"Take meh wit' ya!"

Sighing, I halted at the small voice and reluctantly peeked over my shoulder. There stood a cadaverous boy, maybe six years old, and shirtless. His skin was colored black by soot, meaning he probably came from a family of those who couldn't get a boat and had to dig in patches of soil in search of bugs for dinner. His hair fell limply over his forehead, his limbs skeletal, and so starved his ribs could easily be counted. His pants were extremely loose on him, rolled up several times but still threatening to trip him. He was so dirty I couldn't even tell what color his hair was supposed to be. But his eyes were black as obsidian and held a determined shine that almost impressed me, considering what I'd seen back in town.

The kid must have mistook my silence for refusal because he dashed forward and blocked my path, puffing his puny chest out like he thought that might scare me. "I'mma comin' whetha ya like it or not!"

He couldn't see my expression through the gas mask, but I'm sure he would have taken offense at my grin. Really, this tiny, famished kid was showing more guts than all of the adults that had huddled on the dock earlier. I liked him. However, it wasn't likely that he would be able to hear me through the gas mask, especially over all the noise the burning trees and whipping wind was making. And I wasn't going to risk taking the mask off. If he made it all the way to the cabin with me, I'd talk to him. If not, then at least he tried. And maybe after he comes back to life, he'll have the guts to try again. That'd be inspirational.

I continued my hike, walking right past him, and gesturing for him to follow me. He grinned with relief and shuffled along behind me, the bottoms of his pants dragging over the ash-coated rock. We came to a fence (made of bars of the same material as the village buildings) that reached ten feet high with a metal sign bolted to it, proclaiming 'CAUTION: DANGER' and giving a brief warning of possible death. The fence stretched as far as the eye could see, going in a complete circle around the base of the volcano. A good thirty feet down was a thick river of lava flowing through the bars, heading for the village further away. The kid stared at it with shadowed eyes, his thin lips pressed tightly together.

There was a gate nearby, closed but not padlocked. I opened it, watching the kid hesitate before he followed me through. I made sure to keep my eyes on the lava ahead and locate a clear path to follow. Several times, we had to hop over small streams of lava, but they didn't pose a problem otherwise. They were too small to block my path. It was the gargoyles I was worried about. We'd be awful lucky to go this entire hike without encountering at least one stony beast.

* * *

The cabin was just ahead, larger than all of the buildings I'd seen in the village and erected on taller columns. It had a single small window in the door and a stone ladder hanging down from the doorstep. Seeing it, my eyes opened wider and the ache in my legs became no more than a trivial matter, although moments ago I was certain we would have had to stop and rest on an outcropping. The child was panting and small rivulets of sweat slid down his face and body. They cut through the thick layer of soot that coated him, showing flashes of pale flesh beneath, colored grey by the ash. His hair had become damp and clung to his face. His eyes, however, lit up when he saw the cabin.

I ran the rest of the way there, listening to the boy wheeze as he tried to keep up with me. I clambered up the ladder, dove through the door, and grinned with relief as I flipped the light switch. Everything was in order. There were two beds pressed against the wall opposite the door. There was a table in the middle of the room with high back chairs surrounding it. There were two doors on opposite sides of the room from one another. One led to a bathroom and the other led to a storage area. Before even daring to touch the items provided, I took off my gas mask and placed it in a corner of the main room. Then I turned to the boy. He was staring around with wide, disbelieving eyes.

"This…was 'ere…this 'ole time?" he asked.

"Yep," I told him. Then I entered the bathroom, turning the light on and leaving the door open. The boy trailed after me, standing in the doorway quietly as I searched the cabinets. I set an array of items on the counter, gesturing for the kid to come closer. "Let's see how bad things are."

After a quick inspection, during which I made him open his mouth to see if he had the same gum sores as the others, I managed to get him in the bath. I showed him how it worked, gave him the shampoos and soaps, the toothbrush and toothpaste, and told him to scrub himself until it hurt. He may not have brushed a day in his life, but his gums were okay and his tongue wasn't swollen. Many of the others only got those because of the little creatures that hid inside rotting corpses, be it the ones in the black sea or the ones on the island. Those little creatures buried themselves inside the gums and ate their way out. This kid probably survived off of nothing more than squirming worms and colorful beetles, meaning he wasn't exposed to the creatures. He'd live. He'd even get to keep his teeth. Once he was done and clean to my satisfaction, I threw his pants outside and took my own shower. After that, I disinfected pretty much everything we'd touched, even my gas mask, and then searched the storage room for a sartorial ring for the kid.

It took a bit of time, but we eventually came across one that almost fit him. It was a sartorial ring for black short shorts and a red short-sleeve shirt, both meant for women. They were baggy on him, but good enough. I found my own sartorial ring in the collection and happily stuffed my other rings into my new pockets. I'd gotten myself dark blue cargo pants tucked into knee-high, lace-up leather combat boots, along with a beige button-up shirt that I left hanging open. I liked it. I liked it a lot.

Once we were dressed in clean clothes, I went and found a good amount of canned food inside the boxes in the storage room, along with containers of clean water. Dinner was good, the kid following my example and stuffing his face, never leaving enough room for words to escape. I was a little worried about him eating too fast or too much and getting sick, but I could understand. He'd been starving and he finally had a decent meal nearby. He had all rights to stuff his face, so I let him, even though people who've been starving for a long time shouldn't eat like that all of a sudden. But if he couldn't keep it down, he was cleaning it up.

It was only after we'd filled our bellies and quenched whatever thirst we might have had that we actually talked. He was grinning with utter happiness and, without all that soot, I could finally tell what color his hair was. Red. He had dark red hair and freckles spattered about his body, like drops of golden paint.

"What's your name?"

"…Saffron," he muttered, unable to meet my gaze.

I stretched my arms towards the ceiling before folding them behind my head, leaning back in my chair with my feet propped on the table. "Do you have any family?"

"Well, yeah…but they died 'n I cain't sahvive on meh own. Not even 'til they come back. The people 'ere oft turn tah man-eatin' n'…wit'out meh family, I cain't fight 'em off." He paused, pulling his feet up into his chair and hugging his knees to his chest. "They'd ratha eat meh than help meh. …This was meh only choice. I don' wanna be ate alive. I'd ratha die tryin' tah 'scape."

I eyed him, my arms coming down so I could cross them over my chest. "What about when your family returns?"

"Dunno. Maybe someone from town'll tell 'em I left. Maybe they'll come afta meh. But, if I get out, I'm not comin' back of meh own free will. I don't wanna starve eva again." He looked over to the trash bin where all of the cans and water bottles had gone. "I wanna 'ave a feast like that ever'day."

"That wasn't a feast," I informed him. "That was a meal for a normal person."

"N' a feast for meh," he responded, smiling.

I stood and grabbed my gas mask, handing it to Saffron. "We're about to leave. Wear that. The air here isn't exactly good for your lungs. We'll get to sleep once we're off this island, so no complaining."

"Whatta 'bout ya?" he asked, taking the mask.

I held up another one, flashing him a grin. "The storage room had a bunch more."

He smiled at it, clutching his new-found prize close to him. It looked like he was going to get attached to things pretty quick. "Why're ya in sucha 'urry?"

"I don't really want to be here for long. The gargoyles can get in the cabin if they try to and that'll be a pain to deal with. The sooner we're gone, the better," I explained, adjusting the kid's gas mask strap for him. He held tight to the edges of it, as if afraid I was going to take it back from him, but he showed no other signs of distrust. Oh, well. I didn't plan on being with him long. After we got out of this place, he was on his own. "If I tell you to run, you run. If I say get behind me, you do it. Don't ask questions. Just do what I say."

"M'kay," he responded.

I wasn't completely certain he understood, but I couldn't do much about it if he didn't. "…Get ready for more walking. We're going all the way to the top, kid."

"…M'kay…Whatta I call ya?"

"Ace. My name is Ace," I told him, smiling cheerily. "Now, come on."

* * *

Batida was a cold spot. Here, my devil fruit power was out of my reach. Even without it, I wasn't weak, but it really would have come in handy. We were almost to the top when a pack of wild, slobbering gargoyles burst forth from the ground in a snarling mass headed straight for us. They had large, shiny glass globes for eyes and bodies of obsidian. Uncut crystals (varying in color) jutted out of their limbs and skulls at unpredictable angles. Their stony paws were adorned with large, jagged metal crescents as claws and the tips of their tails were decorated in solid, heavy looking spheres that grew long bristles of quartz. Their bodies were in the shape of feline animals, such as lions or jaguars, and lava dripped from the collections of crystal fangs gathered in their mouths. On each gargoyle's nose was a single jewel no bigger than a dollar coin. Shattering that was the only way to kill them, but the teeth weren't that far off. Accuracy was necessary.

I expected a fight, one that might or might not end with victory on my part, but a fight all the same. Instead of pouncing, the gargoyles lowered their heads, producing some sort of sound, like that of large rocks grinding against one another. Slowly, they retreated to the streams of lava nearby, disappearing into them. I glanced beside me to Saffron, confused by the recent events, but he had removed his gas mask and his eyes were as big around as saucers and full of shock. He'd probably never seen a gargoyle before.

"Were those garg'les?" he breathed, looking up to me.

"Yeah, those were gargoyles," I replied after removing my own gas mask and looping the leather strap through my belt loop, surveying the area nearby just to be sure none of the stony beasts were sticking around with hopes of food. Also, I was curious as to what made them decide to leave me alone. I wasn't that big of a threat to them, not without my devil fruit power. "Come on. Let's not linger."

"_Ace_…"

That voice… I looked back, staring down the slope of the volcano and at the streams of lava that flowed from the open channels in the mountain. And there, standing approximately five feet away, was a pixie. It stood eight feet tall, skin white as snow with caramel splotches, and glittering golden dragonfly wings. Sprouting from its cranium were silver antlers, ones that added a good two feet to its height and were as shiny as the pixie's only eye. The eye itself was as big as my fist and a very pale shade of green, lacking pupils and visible sclera. It sat where the pixie's nose should have been, right above a wide, gap-toothed smile, leaving the pixie with a vast forehead. Each tooth was a white square, some slightly crooked or chipped and most bigger than normal human teeth, with a slim blue tongue hidden behind them. It had a long, pointed chin and sizeable ears, along with slim shoulders and a pot-belly. Its hands hung to its knees and its fingers ended with blunt gold nails. Its legs were unlike Pixie-Dust's in that they were modeled in a way that made walking forward more natural, but not like a human's legs. More like a dog's legs, but with over-sized feet for paws.

"Puppy-Chow…" I whispered, feeling my stomach twist. This whole time I was worried about gargoyles and…I completely forgot about the pixies. They were much more serious than gargoyles…and impossible to fight without my devil fruit ability. They were faster, stronger, and smarter. Once, when I still believed Pixie-Dust was my friend, he took me to a party in the music box. I met a bunch of pixies there. Only some of them made an impression on me. Puppy-Chow was one of them. He didn't make a bad impression, which meant he was better than most pixies, and that wasn't good for me.

I scooped up the boy, hopped over a stream of lava, and made a mad dash for the portal, however far away it may be. It was my only chance at survival. I ran around a boulder and came to a sudden halt. Puppy-Chow was in my way. Behind him was the path to the portal. A stone archway decorated in unfamiliar animal skulls. Resigned to a battle, I set Saffron on his own feet and met Puppy-Chow's gaze.

"Damn it," I muttered.


	18. Whoa, Wait, I'm Gay

"Don't worry, Ace," Puppy-Chow said, his wide smile tilting up at the corners. "I'm not here to hurt you. Unlike Davlannan, I don't want the throne."

"You want me to believe that Cleft-Lip wants the throne…but you don't?" I snorted, clenching my fists. "Bullshit."

Puppy-Chow's smile dimmed and he tilted his head at an angle uncomfortable to look at. "Why is that so hard to believe?"

"Okay, say it's true you don't want the throne and you're not hear to fight. Then what are you pestering me for? Why are you here?" I asked.

"I came to warn you of your opponents. If you know what you're up against, you have a better chance of winning," he answered calmly. "I want you to win. I want Desix to continue being our king."

"You want Pixie-Dust to be king? Seriously? Why?" I paused, my face screwing up with the mere thought of someone actually liking Pixie-Dust. "That makes no sense at all."

"Oh, it does. He's lazy and tends to let us solve our own problems. Our last king would interfere with our lives and try to get involved. Desix doesn't do that. He tells us to do it ourselves and won't listen to those asking him for favors. He treats everyone the same," Puppy-Chow explained, huffing out a breath. "He doesn't get involved, or show favoritism, and I like that. It means I can fight with my brethren and not worry about getting an unfair punishment from the royal household, if I'm punished at all. As long as I don't kill anyone, I can enjoy myself. What kind of king is better than that?"

I opened my mouth to reply but, after thinking it through, I shut it, my teeth clicking together. "So…my opponents would try to assert themselves over you and the other pixies, which you don't want? And the enemy of my enemy is my friend…You."

"Not just me. Desix is also rooting for you, along with Oreborn, Victathyra, Carsys, and Trickfoot. We teamed up and put the weaker of your enemies out of commission. However, there are still a few left that we can't get to and we're not going to openly oppose them…just in case they succeed the throne." Puppy-Chow kicked his foot on the ground, kicking up a small puff of ash before it settled back on the rocky earth. "Anyhow, I came to warn you. Be on the lookout for Victaatra, Zinnatraatris, Davlannan, Zanrry, Cormorel, Stostine, Tralamin, and Alucaryn."

"That's quite a few," I murmured thoughtfully. "I can see why you wouldn't want to oppose them openly. Paul-Bunyan and Limburger together…A force to be reckoned with. But with Toothache on your side…There shouldn't be a damned problem. No matter who you're facing."

"Trickfoot refuses to leave his hide-away. He says he's on the brink of creating his next masterpiece and there's not a moment to waste. Who knows when he'll be done? Him and his inventions…" Puppy-Chow flicked his tongue out to lick at the corner of his eyeball, which induced a slight feeling of nausea inside of me. What a sight to see.

Shaking that off, I glanced down at his hands, which were uncurling and curling into fists next to his knees. "Yeah…Toothache never took an interest in politics. Or, at least, not one strong enough to pull him away from his laboratory. That's why I thought I'd go to Nikolaschka and see him. Maybe one of his inventions could be of help. Honestly, I'm surprised he even knows about the current situation at all."

"Well, some remarks from Zanrry caught his attention. If any of the totalitarians take the throne, his experiments will gain attention and not the good kind. He'll be forced to quit with his inventions and make an effort to go out and ensnare humans…or die. Whichever he prefers." Puppy-Chow made a sour face, which was simply frightening. "See? A perfect example of why I don't want them on the throne. Already planning ways they can change things."

"Why not jus' kill 'em?" Saffron piped up, startling me.

I'd completely forgotten he was there. Sighing, I placed my hand on his head and ruffled his short red hair. "It's because they're making an army. They may be fighting on the inside right now, but, when it comes time for them to destroy the government on the outside, they'll get over it and focus on their common enemy. Pixies only hold grudges for as long as the object of their anger isn't of use to them. Meaning this is just a little spat for them all and they want everyone to come out alive, so when they're needed for world domination, they're still there."

"We may disagree with one another, but we all share a common goal in the end. We just go about achieving it in different ways," Puppy-Chow said before Saffron could spit out any more questions. "Anyhow, you should visit Trickfoot. I think that experiment that he's so obsessed with…might be for you. And, though I never thought I would say this to a human, I hope its something that'll help you fight against our kind. Caipirinha is where all of the totalitarians are currently stationed. They know that's where you'll go. But you're not getting there in your current state."

"I know. I already thought of that. So, if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to leave this island. The air here makes my chest hurt," I told him, gesturing to the path behind him.

Puppy-Chow sniggered and stepped aside, waving his long arm in a grand arc so he could point at the archway. "Go right ahead."

I edged carefully past him, Saffron clinging to my arm, and, when I was a good yard or so away from Puppy-Chow, I turned to face the path ahead. I took a few more steps and, once I was at the arch, I looked down at the stairs carved into the rocks. It lead down into the volcano, where a lake of lava was located and it poured like waterfalls from small cliffs and round openings in the rocky walls. Shooting up out of the center of the lake was an obsidian tower, tall and windowless. I eyed the building for a moment, then, without really thinking, I looked over my shoulder. Puppy-Chow was right there, not even a foot from me, his face angled with his chin against his collarbone, grinning like a maniac and his eye trained on me. "…You're one creepy motherfucker."

I stepped through the archway, Saffron sticking to me like glue, and I went down the stairs. It was a long trip and I often glanced over my shoulder, my neck tingling with the sensation of being watched. Sometimes, Puppy-Chow would be behind me and, others, he'd be out of sight, but not out of mind. At least, with him stalking us, the gargoyles would leave us be. When we finally reached the bottom of the steps, Saffron let go of me, his eyes huge as he stared at the lake and the lava falls. From here, it was easy to see just how big the tower really was. Now, to get to the tower, we'd have to cross the lake, which meant we had to make a trip to the cliff nearby. It was a short walk down the shoreline, which was dotted with groups of tall, jagged crystals that glowed and came in every color of the rainbow. They were called 'lava lamps' and for a damned good reason. Really pretty, but could be dangerous at times. Like, maybe, during an explosive volcanic eruption. The lava would surge into the hollow crystals and they'd shatter, which was undeniably deadly.

Not far from where we stood, I could see the contraption that would get us to our destination. It was a column of stone embedded in the cliff with a cable tied to its upper portion. The cable stretched to a similar column at the base of the tower. That cable was the key to Saffron's freedom and the next step of my adventure.

I lead Saffron in the direction we needed to head, not paying much attention to the lava. Sweat was pouring down the kid's face and dampening his clothes, although I wasn't in much better shape. Without my power, I could feel the heat pouring off of the lake and I wished that Batida wasn't a cold spot, not for the first time today. I actually found that kind of ironic. Batida was far from cold and, usually, I'm cursing my power for all I'm worth.

"Why'd ya come 'ere?" Saffron asked, his eyes squinted to keep the sweat out of them. "Why Batida?"

"I'm in a hurry," I told him and, when he gave me a puzzled look, I decided I might as well explain. "I had a lot of places I could go to get to where I want to go, but Batida…Well, Batida is a shortcut. Dangerous but quick. Why? Starting to think it was a bad idea to come along?"

"No, I'm 'appy ya came 'ere," he said, smiling up at me. "Thanks for ever'thin' ya done for meh."

"You can thank me later," I muttered, pausing. We were at the base of the cliff and the only way up was rock climbing. I could do this much easily. Gramps wasn't the kind of person to go easy on little kids, so I'd been doing insane training since I was really little, right there with Luffy. Saffron, however, had these thin limbs and likely wasn't used to all this physical exertion. Sighing, I pushed my hair out of my face and crouched down on one knee. "Get on my back, kid. And hold on tight."

"M'kay," he mumbled, throwing his arms around my neck.

I grabbed onto a rock that jutted out of the cliff side and made my way up. It was easy, as I expected it to be, especially compared to having to climb Drum Mountain when I was smaller. Me and Luffy both suffered through a lot because of that. Damned old man couldn't understand the limits of children. Once I was on the cliff, I settled Saffron on his own two feet and placed my gas mask back on, gesturing for the kid to do the same. I wasn't getting any closer to the tower without it on.

I approached the column and examined the cable to find that it was still in good shape. I reached up, my fingers barely able to touch it, and, with a bit of a hop, I clenched my fingers around it and tested to see if it could hold my weight. It didn't even hint at snapping, so, satisfied, I let go and knelt next to the column. At the base was a burlap sack full of zip line trolleys, which would work with the cable, and it would be best if me and the kid went together. I grabbed one with handle bars and unhooked it so that I could put it on the cable. I could have used one with a harness, but those things took a lot of time to get in and out of. I wanted to get as far away from the cable column as soon as possible once on the other side. It was an area of concern. Meaning it could be the difference between life and death.

"Hey, Saffron, come here," I said, standing below the cable and holding onto the handlebars of the trolley.

"Yeah?" He came to stand in front of me, staring up at me.

"Climb up on my back again and, whatever you do, don't let go," I told him, pleased when he did as I'd ordered without even asking a question. I wasn't letting go of the trolley, so he had to use my clothes to help him get up my body. I was just glad that he didn't weigh enough to rip my shirt or pull my pants right off my hips. When he got his arms around my throat, I shifted my hold on the handlebars and jumped off the cliff.

The cable dipped but held our weight and we went zipping through the air, no problem. That is until the lava below started rising up. Creatures that were twenty feet tall revealed themselves, molten rock dripping from their huge horns and thick limbs. They had the heads of goats, only ten times as big as normal goats, and their bodies were mostly humanoid. Their arms had bulging muscles coated in dark red scales and bony tails whipped out behind them. Their eyes glowed orange, focused on us like we were the first food they'd seen in a long time. We probably were. But, thankfully, we were on the other side with the tower before they could even reach for us. I hit the ground, my knees bending to lessen the shock, and, with the kid on my back, I made a mad dash for the tower. It didn't have a door or any visible entrance, at least not on this side. But I knew where to go. I knew exactly what I was doing. Thank God for small mercies.

I went sprinting around the tower, determined to get to the other side before the colossuses made it to land. I was smaller, much smaller, but I wasn't the kind of person who froze up when in trouble. I didn't sit still and get myself killed. No, I was kicking up dust and those damned things could eat it for all I cared, because they sure as hell weren't going to eat me. I refused to die like that.

I skidded to a halt after a merciless bout of running, wheezing in my gas mask. I would have taken it off, but I needed to get inside the tower quickly and, once inside, even a second without the gas mask could spell my death. I glanced up at the tower wall next to me, seeing a large hole a good seven feet high. Saffron, who was draped over my shoulders and had his fingers clenched in my shirt, was twisting his body in an awkward angle to stare behind us. I didn't blame him. I could feel the ground shaking from the force of the colossuses footsteps. I reached back and grabbed the kid by his arms, lifting him over my head, readjusting my grip, and holding him up to the hole. He took the hint and climbed inside, pausing to peek out at me. I jumped up, my hand catching the edge of the hole easily, and then I, too, clambered inside. The hole was big enough for the kid to stand up, but I had to remain in a crouch.

I was still out of breath, but I was slowly starting to get it back. The gas mask wasn't helping, but it was too late to turn back and take it off, not without getting myself killed. _I just have to bear with it a little longer_, I thought to myself, pushing at the kid to get him moving. I crawled on my hands and knees behind him and, soon enough, we came to the exit. It was a short drop to the floor inside the tower and I went first, which involved a lot of maneuvering with me and Saffron. I helped him out and, satisfied that we were out of immediate danger, I let us slow down. We kept moving, of course, but I wasn't rushing us anymore. The inside of the tower was made completely of obsidian and the smooth stone reflected the orange light of the torches that were on the walls. The tower wasn't separated into different floors, but rather one room with a large base and extremely high walls. In the center of the room was a spiral staircase that went all the way up to the ceiling. Between the torches on the walls were alcoves that held people in chains and tight leather restraints. The people were emaciated and their skin was stained with dirt. They were naked, other than gas masks, and didn't even stir at our presence. Floating around the floor was a thick, hazy mist of poisonous gas, which I didn't feel inclined to inhale.

The story goes that the tower was a prison and, long ago, back when the music box was first put into use, the people here were trapped. They couldn't die of starvation and, confined as they were, they couldn't kill themselves. Also, the poisonous gas discouraged outsiders from attempting a prison break. These people…they had been here for years and years. The music box was made in 1882, a long time ago, and was one of the costlier models, where the cylinder could be removed to change melodies. These people had been here since around that time. I've already mentioned that an hour on the outside is a day on the inside. Over one hundred years on the outside translates into over one million days on the inside. These people had been starving for a long time and they still hadn't died. You'd think there'd be a limit to how long people can suffer before the music box shows a little mercy. Oh, wait, the music box is the birthplace of the pixies. Mercy? Yeah, no.

I grabbed the kid's arm and lead him to the spiral staircase. I lost track of time on the way up, but it didn't matter. At the very top was a twelve foot ladder in a vertical stone shaft leading to a heavy metal trapdoor that I flung open and climbed out of. The kid followed me silently, as he had been doing most of today. Once he'd dusted off his shorts, he began glancing around. Water surrounded us. Clean, clear water. However, a ring of fire encased it, making it impossible to approach the edge of the tower. It also boiled the water, which produced a thick, muggy steam. I closed the trapdoor and took off my gas mask. It was safe up here.

We stood on a small platform, just slightly higher than water level. The water itself was deeper than I was tall. I approached the edge of the platform, grabbing onto the kid's arm and dragging him over to me. I tightened my hand around Saffron's wrist and jumped into the water. It splashed up around us, engulfing me and the kid, and when we were completely enveloped in the water's embrace…it instantly cooled. It wasn't icy cold, but it definitely wasn't as hot as it had been just a second ago. I surfaced, the water only coming up to my hips, unlike before when it had been more than deep enough to go over my head. Saffron was flailing and coughing out gobs of water as he dangled from my grip, as if he'd been taken by surprise. I pulled him closer, letting him hold onto me as he gathered his bearings and got his breath back.

We were in Jack Rosé. We'd come out in a room of sorts. The water was still and, while there were no doors or windows, there were large statues of muscled men carved into the walls. Some were sitting cross-legged, some lay on their sides, and others stood and touched the ceiling. Speaking of the ceiling, I now knew how to exit the room. There was a gaping hole above us, a rope ladder thrown down it to dangle in the water. That was the only clear exit and the only source of light, though it provided plenty and made the water sparkle.

"Holy shit!"

I whipped around at the voice, coming to a halt as my eyes landed on some very perky breasts with pierced nipples. I rushed to cover Saffron's eyes, ignoring his ragged protests between coughs as he fought to pry my fingers away from his face.

I stood a solid foot taller than the naked woman in front of me, who had these amazing pale green eyes that were currently full of shock and rage. She had a beautiful, toned hour-glass figure that even I, a total gay, found attractive. Her hair was strawberry blonde and cut in a short, shaggy bob that, despite being soaked in water, looked thick and framed her heart shaped face nicely. She had very feminine, almost refined facial features, ones that made her seem like she'd be better suited to an elegant bathhouse in a mansion rather than an ancient spring. Still, as if to contradict her facial features, she had these gorgeous, delicate pastel tattoos that almost blended with her creamy ivory skin. The designs were intricate, forming a mosaic of water lilies and koi fish and dragonflies and flamingos, every inch of the tattoo sporting a metallic shine. They stretched up her arms, over her collarbones, upon the top of her breasts, all to meet in the middle of her chest. Her nipples were accessorized with thin golden chains that had fishing hooks at the end with tiny silver fish attached. There were stray strands of the tattoo trailing across her boobs, down to curl around one of her nipples, forming the tail of a mermaid that was seated on her shoulder.

"You pervert," the lady snarled, seeming to think that I was admiring her tits and not her tats. "I'll fucking kill you!"

"Whoa, wait, I'm gay!" I exclaimed, taking a step back and hoping she'd at least hesitate long enough for me to explain things.

She did in fact pause, her eyebrows twitching up. "You're gay?"

"I'm gay," I affirmed, relaxing just a bit. I would have raised my hands to show her that I wasn't armed, but I didn't want Saffron to see a grown, naked lady.

"Really?" she asked, looking me up and down and sighing when I nodded. "That's too bad. You're fucking cute."

"…Are you flirting with me?" I questioned, shocked. "Even under the circumstances? Really? I don't…Women."

"I feel ya, brotha," Saffron muttered, his coughing finally having calmed down. He was still struggling with my fingers, however. "They'll flirt wit' anythin' that's cute, whetha it's dead or not. Positivelah puzzlin'."

"If you were dead, you wouldn't be able to hear me, so why waste my breath flirting with you?" The woman smirked, as if she'd made a valid point and one-upped him.

"…So, wait, you mean what would bother you would be the fact that I wouldn't be able to hear you, not the fact that I'd be a fucking corpse?" I let that sink in for a bit, pursing my lips with mock discomfort before declaring, in a low drawl, "Okay, I'll be sure to keep that in mind."

"Hold on! I'm not into necrophilia! Ugh," the woman growled, puffing out an irritated breath. "Men! Big or small, gay or straight, they're all dicks."

"Hey! There are a lot of good guys out there. You just have to look really hard to find one," I told her, thinking of Marco and how he was kind and compassionate yet stern and independent at the same time.

"Yeah, well, _you're _a dick!"

"You are what you eat, right?" I said without thinking, the response ingrained in my brain from the multiple times before that I'd been called a dick. When you spend a lot of time just pissing people off and starting fights, name-calling becomes a natural part of your life, as do the snappy comebacks.

"If that's true, then I'mma bug," the kid informed us cheerfully.

"…Look, we can talk more in a minute. I'm not really comfortable standing around naked and talking to strangers." The girl gestured to a pile of clothes laying on the lap of a statue not too far from us.

"Whoa, naked?! No one said anythin' 'bout naked ladies," Saffron cried out, doubling his efforts to remove my hand from blocking his view. "I wanna see! I wanna see! Let me see!"

The woman paused in her efforts to get out of the water, her hands planted firmly on the surface that formed the knee of the statue. She pointed to the boy and stated, quite plainly, "That kid might not be a dick, but he sure does think with it."

* * *

The woman, apparently named Voski, led us back to her camping area. It had a clear view of what the majority of this world looked like. Trees. Huge trees. A lot of them. They literally floated in the sky, their roots, often clumped with chunks of dirt, reaching down but not even coming close to touching the ground far, far below. There were small drifting clouds high above, the sun shining bright, flocks of birds soaring through the air while singing their cheery melodies, all accompanied by a soft, refreshing breeze. Villages were carved into many of the trees, although some were left uninhabited. We were perched on a thick root, maybe twenty feet across, and tied to it was a rope bridge that connected to the roots of another tree. All of the trees were connected in a similar fashion. Their limbs lacked leaves, but they were still covered in greenery. Which was why they were all dead. Growing on everything from the bridges to the trees themselves were these thorny vines with blossoming flowers of all shapes and colors, some unfamiliar and bearing plump, soft fruits that were the size of mangoes. They were sucking the life out of the trees.

Saffron, of course, freaked out the moment my hand left his face. He started touching and smelling everything. Batida didn't have that much vegetation or fresh air and it was no wonder he was amazed by this all. I took his gas mask, along with mine, and tied them to my belt loops. Here, the air wasn't polluted and didn't reek of death and smoke and poisonous gas.

Voski's camp was small, consisting of a purple tent and a fire pit located on a nearby patch of dirt. She was currently wearing tight jungle green pants, a white vest, and black jogging shoes. Hiding her shaggy head of hair was a bright red bandanna with a golden Pen Pal Guild badge pinned to it, showing the image of a pen and ink pot. On her hand, she wore a heavy black iron ring, one that acted as a stamp for a wax seal, leaving the image of a compass rose. It was the Travelers Guild ring and it wasn't just a ring or a stamp. It was also a key to the majority of the cabins. The cabin on Batida didn't need a key, mainly because there weren't that many people who were willing to go there…and the gargoyles kept eating the lock. The Travelers Guild stopped bothering to send more people to their deaths just to secure one little old cabin, so it was deemed free for all.

I used to have one of the rings, back when I was first registered. Actually, I still had it. Somewhere in my closet with the rest of the items I'd brought back from my previous trips here. I'd probably have to get my contract renewed. Not that that bothered me. It would only take a few minutes and I had left over money from Yvette…Which reminded me. I pulled my pocket watch out of one of my pockets and flipped the cover open with a deft flick of my wrist. A hologram acted as the display, showing two sets of numbers, one that kept track of the time on the inside and one that kept track of the date on the outside. Underneath those was a holographic compass and, beside that, a 'MAP' option.

Back when I was on Briar's ship, he'd downloaded the map and my planned route onto my pocket watch, which might as well have been a GPS, too. The music box wasn't like the world on the outside. Things on the inside were so much more complex and things that you would never find outside existed in abundance on the inside. Things that were impossible on the outside were possible on the inside due to materials only found on the inside. The music box wasn't a bad place. At least, not all of it was. And, things were constantly changing. The stronger the pixies got, the more people they trapped, the bigger the inside became. In the beginning, it was just Batida, Bloodhound, and Caipirinha. Now, there were over six hundred different rooms.

I swiped my finger through the 'MAP' option and a list of room names came up. I selected Jack Rosé and, after a moment of 'loading', the map popped up. It was a finely detailed aerial view and my path was lit up in red. I was the pulsing orange dot with the small triangle next to it and, the area of my route that I had already passed through, was green, so that I knew which way I was supposed to go, just in case I got turned around. The little triangle next to the orange dot showed me which way I was facing, and, lining it up with the dotted red line, I looked up to find myself facing the rope bridge. So…that was the way I had to go. Good.

I snapped the pocket watch closed and stuffed it back into my pocket, twisting to face Voski and Saffron. They were crouched next to the tent, staring inside and casually sharing a bag of some kind of candy. I approached, kneeling down beside Voski to peek into the tent alongside them, only to see what looked to be a fluffy infant brown-throat three-toed sloth clinging to a travel bag.

"His name is Delta," Voski told me. "I got him a few weeks ago and he's really easy to take care of. I can leave him for hours and hours on end and, by the time I get back, he'll only be a few feet from where I left him."

I stared at her, unblinking. _What a weird woman_, I thought, but, instead I said, "Where are you headed?"

"Moonwalk," she answered, smiling innocently at me. The quickest way to Moonwalk was through Nikolaschka, which was my next stop. "Where are _you _headed?"

"Nikolaschka, then on to Caipirinha."

Silence followed as she gave me a lengthy sidelong glance. "The capital's a dangerous place these days. Why would someone like you be heading in that direction?"

I turned to face her, wearing a wicked grin as I practically crooned, "Why, my dear lady, I'm off to see the wonderful wizard of Oz."

Voski failed miserably in her obvious attempt at suppressing her smile. "Well, I don't see you wearing ruby red heels, so you're probably not Dorothy…That means you must be…Ace, right?"

"And here I was thinking I was an innocent farm girl from Kansas," I replied, chuckling. Now that I was out of Batida, I was in a surprisingly good mood. And having come across someone who wasn't too old to know what I was talking about improved it even more.

"…It'd be downright suicidal of me to want to travel with you, wouldn't it?"

"Oh, yeah," I agreed, smirking. "Dude, my catchphrase should be 'let the chaos ensue' and that's when I'm _behaving_."

Her eyebrows rose and she shot me a knowing glance. "You behave?"

"From time to time. If it benefits me."

"…Wow. I must have a death wish, because, for some odd reason, I think it would be a good idea for us to stick together until we have to go our separate ways," she informed me, fiddling with the ring on her finger. "You wouldn't mind, would you?"

I paused, glancing to Saffron to see him looking at me expectantly. "…I guess I could use the company."

Saffron immediately jumped up onto his feet, thrusting his fist up into the air. "Yeah!"

"Whoa, whoa! The first thing I'm doing is dropping you off at the nearest orphanage," I told him, my voice stern. "It's too dangerous."

"Wha?! I can take care of mehself! I won' get in ya way," he exclaimed, clasping his hands in front of him and staring up at me with his big black eyes. "Please, Ace!"

"…Saffron," Voski began, stopping to bite her lip for a second. "He's not like us. He doesn't live…here."

"Whatta ya mean?" he asked.

She hesitated, but eventually murmured, "He's not from this world. He's from…the outside and, unlike most of us, he can go back."

"…The outside don' exis'…" Saffron was looking at me, his eyes full of discontent and denial.

"Yeah, it does," I told him. "Not everyone was born here. Hell, the first humans ever to come here came from the outside."

"Then…don' go back. Stay 'ere," the kid said, his lower lip beginning to quiver.

I sighed, running my hand through my hair. I hated when people cried. Absolutely _hated _it. "I can't, Saffron. I have friends and family I need to get back to. Not just because I want to, but because I have to. I can't protect my family from in here."

"Then…whatcha gonna do 'bout meh?"

"Like I said, you'll be going to the nearest orphanage. They'll take good care of you." Or, at least, I hoped so. But I couldn't afford to stay here, no matter what. I didn't _want _to. After I died, I'd suffer through the music box imprisonment, but until then…I was going to live my life on the outside while I still could.

Saffron wiped away a tear that had streaked down his cheek. "…Ya gave meh food. Ya were nice tah meh. Unlike ever'un else on Batida, ya didn' turn meh away. Even meh parents didn' wan' meh. I was jus' a bur'en, anotha mouth tah feed, anotha stomach tah fill. They weren' 'appy tah 'ave meh. They made that clair…but, wit'out 'em I'dda done got mehself ate. N' afta they died…What if ya orphanage send meh back, Ace? I don' wanna go back. I'm sc-scared. There ain't…no one there for meh."

_And here come the hiccups_, I thought, massaging my temples. I really hated it when people cried. But I couldn't say anything to him. I wasn't certain of anything here in the music box. I wasn't certain of how an orphanage would react to a kid from Batida. I wasn't certain whether Toothache would help me or not. Hell, I didn't even know if Puppy-Chow had been telling the truth.

"Ace…You know, he's right to worry," Voski spoke up. "Batida has a bad reputation and, while you can't tell where he's from just by looking at him, his accent is more than enough of an indication. I think the orphanage would be more worried about the danger of spreading diseases to its other children than Saffron's well-being."

I puffed out a breath, groaning loudly. "Ugh…You're right. But I can't stay here and take care of him."

"Well…Maybe if you make it to the king before any of the pixies get you, you can use your wish on him," she suggested. "I mean, couldn't the pixies give him a home?"

"No, I have plans for that wish…but I think I know exactly what to do with you, Saffron," I said, an idea coming to mind as I looked to him. "What do you say? Want to come with?"

His eyes went wide and his mouth stretched into an excited grin. "Ya mean et?"

I nodded, standing up. "Yeah, sure. We're not going to be together forever, but I think I can get you a decent home."

"I'm so 'appy," Saffron said. "So, which way, now?"

I gestured to the rope bridge. "Well, according to my map, we're going that way. ...I hope you're not afraid of heights."

* * *

_**I actually wanted to put this up yesterday, but FanFiction was down. Every time I pressed the 'Manage Stories' button, it said something about an error type 1. So, instead, I sat down and reread my story. I've noticed quite a few typos, including a deal where ¾ replaces one of the symbols…one I used to use to break off a sentence in the middle, like if someone was being interrupted. I don't know why. I guess it just converts in a weird way. Anyways, I wasn't the only one suffering through the FanFiction error and I'm not the only one who makes typos, so I guess I can't really be mad. I mean, this is water, right? Oh, and kudos to anyone who knows what I'm referencing.**_

_**It might be a bit longer before my next chapter is up, but that's purely because I'm being me and need a bit to gather inspiration in my brain. It won't take long. I look at a few pictures, put a few things together, concoct a theme, and there we go. I'm writing off the walls. :D Have a good day, everyone! Or night, depending on when you're looking at this.**_


	19. Ever Eat A Roach?

_**Okay, I lied. It hasn't been that long since my last update. But this is good. And I'm just gonna say I don't know when I'm going to put the next one up. That one really probably is going to take a while. This one...was special. I saw a picture and I was all like...Yep. I'mma write, now. Oh, and it shouldn't be long before Ace gets out of the music box. There's Nikolaschka and Toothache and then Caipirinha. Okay, I change my mind...It might take a bit. Anyways, enjoy.**_

* * *

"I'm telling you there's no reason to feel sorry for them. They can leave whenever they want," I snapped, flashing an irate scowl at Voski. "They themselves are what's in their way. If I were in their shoes, I'd be making a mad dash for freedom."

"Not everyone's like you, Ace," she retorted, her expression a mirror image of my own. We'd been arguing about this for the last forty-five minutes, Saffron and Delta trapped between us on the couch, and I really couldn't see why she just wouldn't agree with me. I obviously made more sense. If the people on Batida really wanted to leave, there was nothing to stop them but their fear and fear is only in the mind. "_Some _people don't like pain."

"That kind of pain is temporary! And, when they come back, they can just try again," I told her, exasperated. "They're just a bunch of cowards, is all. Carcasses, cannibals, and cowards. If they want to get out, they should just follow Saffron's example and get out. He took a chance and look at him. He's fine."

"He had you, Ace," Voski snarled, thrusting her arm out over Saffron's head to jab me in the shoulder.

I rubbed at the spot she'd hit, not really in pain, but not happy that she'd hit me. Here, my devil fruit power was in working order, but using it might not be a good idea. I mean, this city was carved into a giant fucking tree. Trees burn. But, even knowing that, I was sorely tempted to get a little revenge. Forcing my homicidal thoughts back, I contributed to the conversation by saying, "So?"

"…If not for you, he probably would have died on the way." She sounded each word out carefully, turning halfway to face me and ignoring it when Saffron shot her an agitated look and muttered a protest.

I ground my teeth together and rubbed at my face. This woman was impossible. Why did I ever agree to travel with her? "That's not the point! The point is that he put forth the effort, instead of sitting around like the rest of them and wondering when he would get his next meal. And because of that little bit of effort, he…"

"Do you have no heart?!" Voski exclaimed, interrupting me. "All of those people. You saw them, how bad things are there, and yet you still say these things! What kind of monster are you?"

"The kind that can't stand cowards!" I shouted back, throwing my hands up in the air as I hopped to my feet. "Excuse for me admiring those of us who actually stand up for themselves and fight to live!"

"…Are you rich?"

I was taken aback by that. After having renewed my guild contract and gotten myself a ring, I'd had less than half what I started out with. Then I had to buy the mount to get us all the way here, the Travelers Guild cabin. So, no, right now, I was not rich. "I have literally next to nothing right now. Why?"

Voski sighed loudly, rolling her eyes at me. "No, I mean, are you rich? Like, you know, on the outside?"

"Well, yeah, I'm a billionaire," I answered calmly.

"That explains a lot," she muttered, settling back into the couch and stroking Delta's head, even though Delta was currently sitting in Saffron's lap and trying to get at his bright red hair. "You've probably never been homeless. You don't know what it's like, so you can't understand what goes through their heads."

"Oh, and you do?" I grumbled, hating that she'd been able to tell I was rich just by talking to me. Was I really acting like that much of a spoilt brat? I hoped not.

"Well, yes, Ace, I do. I was homeless before I died. I had experience in that field," she responded, almost too quiet for me to hear. "I sympathize with the people of Batida. They might be the kind of people who actually think about things that come after they get past the worst of the storm. The clean up, the losses they would suffer, the changes. What if things don't change for the better, Ace?"

I stared at her, incredulous. "How could things get any worse? Have you seen Batida?"

"What if they get out and come here…and the people here shun them, or even quarantine them? What if it's the Fourscore Tower all over again? Trapped, starving, and unable to die to escape it all. They have diseases, they don't have access to baths, and they eat one another to survive," Voski explained, leaning back into her couch cushion. "In Batida, it's okay to tell someone that you ate your best friend's corpse for dinner the night before. That's normal there. But here…Heads would turn. Hell, someone somewhere would get whiplash. The lifestyles from here are too different. Lines would be crossed. There'd be conflicts."

"…But it's still better than Batida, right?" I questioned, frowning. Maybe being rich had clouded my eyes and made me see homeless people in the wrong light. Of course, I was still only going to donate to legal shelters. I wanted to know where my money was going and how far it was taking someone in their attempt to better their life. I wasn't trusting enough to hand it to someone on the side of the road who might or might not end up misusing it. But maybe I didn't have to think so lowly of them. I didn't have to turn around and start giving everyone on the side of the street bundles of cash, but I could at least stop thinking of them all as no more than stubborn fools looking for beer money.

"No, it's not better, Ace. What if they can't get jobs and provide for themselves? What if they can't get homes to live in? At least, on Batida, they know the rules and know what they have to do to keep living. Here, things are different. A lot different." Voski scraped her palms over her jeans, as if wiping away an unpleasant memory. "If you want to judge someone, put yourself in their shoes first. Afterwards, feel free to damn them to Hell. I won't care."

"…I'm not damning them to Hell," I grumbled, though, honestly, I might as well have been considering I was content to let them rot in Batida. Maybe, after I died, I'd make an effort to get them all to a better place. "Hey, wait. I have an idea. Even if they can't stay here, in the city, they can always go to the ground. While it's not the safest place in Jack Rosé, far from it, it's better than Batida."

There was a long silence as Voski eyed me, face grim before she broke out with a smile. "You're right. It was abandoned long ago. They shouldn't have to worry about fighting a resistance if they go there. But…It was abandoned for a reason."

"Why?" the kid asked, clutching Delta close to him. He'd really taken a liking to the sloth and he kept it nearby at all hours of the day. Just last night, he'd been the one to sit down next to it and start feeding it.

"It's dangerous on the ground," I explained. "Just like how, on Batida, the mountain is dangerous."

He slid off the couch, taking Delta with him, and went to sit at the kitchen table. "If it's so dangaroos, 'owda ya expec' 'em tah sahvive? They'll be mauled, if not by monstas then by one anotha."

"He has a point. They have trust issues and they eat the body of anyone who dies," Voski pointed out, rubbing at her tattoos. I really liked her tattoos. "They'll probably start arguing the minute food is mentioned. They're so used to fighting for it."

"That's not my fault, now is it?" I said. "I don't have all day to try and come up with a way to make things better for them, especially if all they want to do is chomp down on their dead family members. …Hey, Saffron, did you ever eat anyone's corpse?"

"Nah," he told me, kicking his feet under the table. "Ever'thin' I ate was 'live n' kickin'…Like beetools. …Those things were _cruncheh_."

I snickered at that, then questioned, "Ever eat a roach?"

"Yeah," he admitted, as if it didn't bother him one bit.

"Ugh…That's gross. Can we not talk about eating insects, please?" Voski said, making an odd face. "I'd really like to keep my stomach contents inside my stomach."

"What? You've never eaten a bug before?" I asked, going to the kitchen and rummaging through the cabinets. I began placing cooking materials out, determined to make something to eat before we had to leave. "I find that really hard to believe. I mean, at some point in your childhood, you get curious and you try stupid shit."

The disgust on her face was almost too funny, but she came to stand in the kitchen with me, leaning against the counter. "Maybe you did, but I didn't. I was smart from the get-go."

"All this talkin' 'bout eatin' is makin' meh awful hungry, so can we eat?" Saffron asked, pouting over at me as his stomach made its discomfiture known. "I really wan' breffes', man."

Voski and I grinned, then proceeded to make a group effort at cooking. The cabin was spacious enough, with two bedrooms, a bath, kitchen, and main room. Voski and Delta had slept in one while me and Saffron took the other. I now knew that he was a cuddle bug. He snuggled me half to death last night, as if he was afraid I'd leave while he was asleep. Well, I wasn't going without him, because I had plans for him. And, speaking of departure…We'd be leaving soon, seeing as we'd slept a good nine hours, and we still had a long journey ahead of us. But, first, breakfast.

As me and Voski cooked, Saffron sat at the table, quietly and seeming to ponder something before he blurted, "I don' think it's fair that onleh Ace got tah see ya naked."

I was just happy that I wasn't carrying anything when he said that. Voski, on the other hand, froze in the process of flipping a pancake, her eyes tracking over to the kid. She made a sound in the back of her throat, her eyebrows shooting up into her hairline as she moved her gaze from the kid to me, a small amused smile quirking up at the corners of her mouth. It was then that I decided to intervene. Before she made a joke of it all and said she'd let him take a bath with her. He'd force her to keep her word and that'd be a little too much for me. He was a kid and I wasn't going to let him fondle a girl's tits during bath time. Just…no.

"…I think you've seen enough naked ladies," I muttered, thinking about the destitute state of Batida and how clothing wasn't always available.

"Girls back 'ome don' count. They too skinny. Ain't got no curves n' look jus' like the guys, onleh wit'out the dangly bits between the legs," Saffron told me, point blank.

Voski was currently entertained by this all. She thought it was downright hilarious and, despite my efforts to avoid this, she did in fact offer to let him bathe with her. I practically face palmed right then and there. This…was going to be a long trip.

* * *

Our mount was a bird…of sorts. It stood as tall as Puppy-Chow had and resembled a swan more than anything. The biggest difference was it's feathers, which were in many different shades of red with hints of white and ash grey. After Voski strapped her supplies to its back, we climbed aboard and I took hold of the reins. We were going down to the ground far, far below. It would be a good twenty minute flight, considering we would have to survey the area before landing.

Saffron had taken to calling the bird, our mount, by the name Amigo. This was all fine and dandy. It worked for me and Voski only complained for a few minutes. Of course, she was a woman and wanted something else, something that 'fit' him. We'd immediately rejected all of her suggestions because Amigo was not a female.

As air rushed through my hair, caressing my skin, I relaxed. I really enjoyed flying and, while I knew it was wrong of me, I envied Marco for his ability to sprout wings and take to the sky. Life would be so much more bearable if I had his power. I'd spend every free minute of my day just drifting in the clouds.

_Marco, huh? Even here, he has a hold on me. He's probably sleeping right now. …I wonder what he dreams about._

* * *

"What the hell is wrong with me?" Marco growled, running fingers through his hair and setting aside his recently graded papers. He'd graded every last one of them in the last hour and then went back to 'check' if his grading was fair. He was tired, so damn tired, but every time he tried to lay down and sleep… "Why can't I just go to sleep?"

He pushed off of the couch, going to the kitchen to get a quick drink of water. He wasn't sure why, but sleep was evading him. He almost drifted off earlier but, the minute his eyes slipped shut, he snapped back to attention. _But why? _

"Narcolepsy would come in handy right about now," he muttered, sipping at his glass of water. He returned to the living room, but before he sat down again, he froze and turned to look at the clock. It was early in the morning, just after midnight, so it wasn't likely that anyone he knew was going to be awake. Not even Ace. Actually, the whole reason they'd had the cameras installed was because the boy's breakdown, so…But he'd seemed fine before. But Marco couldn't bring himself to sit down, because, damn it, something about the thought of Ace was making a part of his brain flip shit. _Well, since I'm up, I might as well check on him_, he thought, giving in to his instinct.

* * *

"He's following us, Ace," Voski snapped, tense as could be.

"You think I don't know that already," I snapped back, just as tense. We increased our pace, but we couldn't go too fast because Saffron would have trouble keeping up with our longer strides. Cradled against his chest was Delta and, a few yards behind them, was Amigo. "What the hell does he want? I thought they avoided being down here."

"Usually." She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes narrowing. "What do we do?"

"I don't know. I guess…we could try to scare him off, again," I suggested, already knowing it was useless. Voski looked at me, pointedly, as if she knew I knew it was useless and thought I was to blame. "Don't look at me like that."

"I don' see wha' the big deal is. Amigo jus' wanna come with us," Saffron said, grinning as he looked back at Amigo's waddling form. "He's kinda cute."

"If he comes with us, he'll get us killed," Voski grumbled, but she slowed down, which meant she was giving up. I kept my pace even with hers, making sure Saffron and Delta didn't lag behind too much. I wanted them nearby…just in case.

I glanced around, taking note of our surroundings once again, as I had taken to doing every five minutes. The ground…wasn't ground at all. It was a giant expanse of water with a mess of crisscrossing wooden trails erected on stilts, no end in sight. There was no ground above water for us to run to if a serpent should decide that a giant red bird was to be its next meal. And the wood had become rotted, meaning it was treacherous footing we were working with here. Amigo, who was the biggest of us all and the clumsiest, had already made a good portion collapse into the water. I'd been wondering whether the noise had drawn the attention of some of the water creatures or not, and if it had… Well, that would be bad. Very bad. Fire only works above water. If a serpent were to attack and make the wooden paths fall, we'd be fish food. But Amigo just kept waddling along behind us, as if he wasn't aware he was in danger and putting us in danger in the process.

It was rather frustrating.

Still, if we could make it to the abandoned city, there wouldn't be a problem. Once there, we wouldn't have to worry too much about the sea creatures attacking. We'd have other problems, but that's where my fire came in handy. It was really effective here, especially against our expected enemies.

"…Hey…Is that…?" Voski began, staring off to the right with the beginnings of a grin. "I think that's it, Ace. I think that's Paper Dandelion."

I followed her pointing finger to see the abandoned city we'd been looking for. Paper Dandelion. It was a city of wooden shacks stacked atop each other haphazardly, looking as if they were ready to topple over at any second. It was run-down and some of the tall buildings had already given way and fallen into the water. There was supposed to be a stone skyscraper, only one, but I couldn't see it through all of the other buildings. We'd just have to go and wander that maze of misshapen structures until we found the way out. Somewhere in there was a portal to Nikolaschka. But…without the stone skyscraper…the city didn't look right. I pulled out my pocket watch and checked my map. Yep. That was the way we were supposed to be going.

Sighing, I put it away and, at the next four way we came to, I turned right. My companions were smiling like idiots, as if they expected the city to be something special, and, while it was, they might not be too happy about that. Well, Voski was probably smiling because she knew we were that much closer to getting out of here. She wasn't like Saffron. She likely knew what was coming.

As we came to the city's gates, which were tall and made of solid oak, I paused and turned to face them. "I want you two to stick close and, by that, I mean, I want you stepping on my damned heels. Are we clear?"

"Crys'al," he said, peering up into my face. "But why?"

"Because this place was abandoned for a reason," Voski told him, patting his head. "But there's nothing to be scared of as long as we've got Ace."

"Don't listen to her, Saffron. If we get into a fight, don't get too close to me," I told him, my hands on my hips.

"But I thought ya tol' meh tah stick close tah ya," he said, frowning.

"Just…Just do as I say, kid," I muttered, running my fingers through my hair as I turned back to the gate. I took hold of it and pushed it open, gritting my teeth as the bottom of it scraped against the wooden path under our feet. The sound wasn't as loud as it could be, but noise was not a welcome thing here.

We wandered through the city, checking my pocket watch every now and then to make sure we were headed towards the center, and things seemed to be pretty peaceful. Right up until we got to the main street. There, huddled around the still form of an unfortunate person, were people. Made of paper. Like origami, only they were alive and white as snow. They turned to look at us, lacking general facial features, and then they rose. I could hear the hiss of paper sliding over paper as their joints moved. Every single one of them was focused on us and made their slow way towards our grouping.

But they froze when I lifted a hand coated in bright orange flames.

"I'm fire. You're paper. You being stupid enough to attack me would make my fucking day, man," I said, not quite sure whether they could understand me or not, but feeling obligated to at least try to communicate.

"Whoa, you have a devil fruit ability?" Voski asked, staring at my hand like it was the most amazing thing she'd ever seen. "That is so cool."

"Yeah, it's a pain in the ass," I informed her, then faltered and glanced at her. "Wait… You didn't know? But earlier…you said everything would be fine as long as I was with you guys. Did you expect me to actually fight these things without some kind of power?"

"Well, you're the man in this relationship! You have to protect the lady." She just smiled at me, like everything was all good and there was no reason for me to want to smack her upside the head. I chose to be a 'gentleman' and not hit her, instead turning to face our origami foes.

"Well, come on. Either move out of our way or burn," I hissed.

They moved. As we carefully maneuvered through the group, I looked at the body of the person they'd been attracted to. The person was female, very much so, and naked. Or mostly naked. She wore a worn brown leather collar that had the name 'Harlow' stitched on it in bright pink. Her skin was as creamy white as a bleached pearl and surprisingly unblemished. She was skinny, but not the kind of skinny that Saffron was. She looked like she was well fed, but naturally slender. She was also short, maybe four foot two. But the thing that really got me was her hair. It was white, her skin just a shade darker than it, and it was cropped close to her skull, messy and sticking up in all directions. Her lip was split and dark bruises framed both of her eyes. Other than that, she had a nice figure, though not as curvaceous as Voski's. Nowhere near that. Slim and short with lightly toned muscles. She was feminine but completely different from Voski.

"See, now, _that's _a naked lady," Saffron piped up. I spared him an aggravated glance, not exactly happy that he was seeing this, but resigned to it. It was too late, now, anyways. What's done is done.

When I looked at her again, I felt…a pull on my mind. Like leaving this girl here would be the worst thing I could possibly do. She was unconscious, sprawled on the wooden planking, but something about her made me want to help her. Maybe it was the fact that leaving her to the paper people would be worse than death. They'd do things to her that… were just wrong. She'd get paper cuts where paper cuts should never be. So, I glanced to Amigo and called him over.

I scooped her up, and settled her onto Amigo's back, who used his beak to poke and prod her until she was positioned in a way that she was least likely to slip off. I took hold of his reins in one hand and, once again, ignited my other hand. Once we were out of the paper people's sight, I extinguished my fire and took out my pocket watch. Left. One more left and we'd be at the stone sky scraper.

As we turned the last corner, I looked up from my pocket watch, and froze. The wooden planking underneath the sky scraper had given way, meaning the building had fallen through and almost the entirety of it was submerged in water. Only the very top was still above the water and, even though getting to that would mean not all was lost, there was the question of how to get there. For a good twenty feet in all directions was nothing but water. The woodwork having collapsed meant there was little for us to use to get over there.

"Ace…What do we do?" Voski asked, sounding just as distressed as I felt.

"…We swim across," I said after a moment, my fingers tightening around Amigo's reins. "This is where our bird buddy comes in handy."

* * *

Marco unlocked his office door, stepping inside. His office was the one place he avoided taking school work into. No grading papers in here and no making tests for the students. Not in here. His office was where he painted and sculpted. Where he made his art. School work was put on the desk in his bedroom and that was that. He sat down at the desk in the corner, admiring the painting that were hung all over the walls, from top to bottom, and how spacious the room was even with all the easels and stools spread out over the floor. He leaned back in his chair and looked at the monitors in front of him. It was nighttime and all of the lights in Ace's house had been turned off so the cameras had switched to night vision mode, meaning everything was in black and white.

Marco examined the screens for a moment, looking at each one before he froze, his eyes widening.

"…Where the hell is Ace?"


	20. Spontaneous Combustion

I clapped my hands together and turned to my companions, smiling amiably, despite the situation. "Here's how it's going to go down. Someone has to go across and find an entrance above the water, secure it if necessary, and, if everything checks out, everyone on this side will hop on Amigo's back and ride on over. Amigo probably won't understand what's going on and which way to go, so whoever goes across has to come back and lead him to-"

"What if the building's flooded?" Voski interrupted, which was actually a good question.

"Then we're going to go for a swim and hopefully no one drowns. But that's unlikely. The walls and windows are thick and sturdy," I said. "Anyways, as I was saying, Amigo has to be lead to the entrance. Now, all we have to do is decide who's going across…So?"

"I'll go," Saffron volunteered, grinning eagerly. "I can do et, Ace. I can do et."

"No, you're just a kid. Plus, you barely know how to swim," I told him, putting my hand on his head, as I had taken to doing, and pushing so that he sprawled flat on his back with Delta lazing on his stomach. "The sloth can't do it, either. And Amigo has to be over here. So…Me or you, Voski?"

"Uh, you," she said, looking at me as if I were crazy. "I'm a lady."

"Only when it profits you," I grumbled, but I honestly hadn't expected her to agree to going. And, anyways, I was more likely to survive. I had my devil fruit power if anything went wrong. Well, if and only if I got on the other side. The swim over, however, would be nerve wracking. "I guess I'm the only one fit for this, huh?"

"Nuh-uh! I can do et!" Saffron exclaimed, hopping to his feet once more.

"No. I'll handle it." I approached the edge of what remained of the wooden planking, coming to a stand still with the toes of my boots peeking over the shattered end of a board. The water wasn't as crystal clear as Pink-Lady's, nor was it anywhere near as murky as Batida's, meaning it was about as clear as your average freshwater lake…but, at the same time, it had serpents, meaning it wasn't like your average freshwater lake. I was silently praying that all of the local aforementioned serpents had gone out hunting far, far away. Say…on the other side of Jack Rosé.

"Why not?" Saffron whined, stamping his foot irately and flinching when I glowered at him for it. The boards were weak enough without him pounding on them, like some ill-mannered child throwing a tantrum.

"As I said before, you're just a kid."

"I'm not a kid. I'm already 'leven," he growled back, huffing out a breath and shifting Delta up higher on his chest.

"Eleven…?" I paused, looking him up and down. When I first met him, I'd thought he was six or seven, no more than that. He was just so small, but maybe that was because of living a life of undernourishment. That definitely made sense. "Well, it doesn't matter how old you are. There are things in this water that I stand a better chance against."

"Hey, Ace, you might not want to get your clothes wet," Voski advised, peering at her fingernails. "We've already dealt with wet clothes once since meeting. Why don't we try to avoid doing it again until further notice?"

I glanced down at my clothes, frowning. She was right. We'd had to dry out our clothes on the first day in Jack Rosé and, now that we were on the ground, there wouldn't be any cabins available for us to stay in while we took care of our wardrobe issues. …But there was no way in Hell I was getting naked… With my luck, something would mistake my other 'limb' for food while I was in the water, which was one of the most unpleasant thoughts I'd had since coming to the world of the music box. Considering that, I'd really like to have something between me and any fishy eyes that I might attract. Still…I liked the clothes I was wearing right now and I would like to keep them in tip-top shape. Especially the leather combat boots. Those things were kick-ass.

Sighing, I reached into my pocket, pulling out my small collection of sartorial rings. Including the one I was wearing, I had three. A gaudy, diamond encrusted silver ring from Chloe. A slim, simple golden band from Briar. And the one I was wearing now, which was a turtle crafted from stainless steel with what appeared to be a small peacock green Tahitian pearl acting as its shell. I switched it for the gaudy ring because, put simply, I didn't give a rat's ass whether that suit got wet or not. Yes, I may look good in it, but I'd look good in a burlap sack…Shit, my narcissistic side was popping out.

"Wow, Ace, you look _fine_," Voski purred, one brow raised in appreciation as she looked me over in favor of continuing her nail inspection. "Damn…You were hiding this the whole time?"

"…I wasn't hiding it…I just don't like putting my hair up," I grumbled, not exactly comfortable with a girl flirting with me. She really needed to stop doing that. I mean, I understood that I didn't look like your average Joe. But when it's girls…No, I'm gay and when they flirt with me…It just makes it that much more obvious that I don't swing back and forth like most people; I swing diagonal.

"I think you look more masculine and exotic with your hair up. Before…you looked appealing, trust me, but a bad boy kind of appealing. Ya know what I'm saying?" She came a little closer, but I put a hand up to signal for her to halt.

"Yeah, the same thing Chloe said," I muttered, kneeling down at the edge of the gaping hole in the wooden planking. I slipped my feet down into the water, my shiny black dress shoes immediately filling with water. Not that I cared. Of course, later, I'd dry them out, because it would be nice to have as many clothes available as possible. Just in case things didn't work out as planned. The water here was nice and cool, almost invitingly so, but I knew what lay in the depths of it. I was careful not to create a lot of noise in the process of dipping my body down off of the planking.

Voski crouched down at the edge, looking at me. "Don't die, Ace," she whispered, barely loud enough for me to hear but not Saffron.

"Oh, yeah, because I planned to just go off and get myself-" I began, only for her to cut me off by flicking me in the forehead. Of course, my skin glowed red like an ember where she hit me, sending a wave of heat through my skull. She yanked her hand back, scowling at me around the finger she stuck in her mouth.

"Asshole," she said, then went to join Saffron at Amigo's side.

After taking a deep breath, I pushed away from the broken board I'd been holding onto, turning towards the sunken skyscraper. It wasn't that long of a swim. Twenty… twenty-five feet at most. So, why was my heart beating like a drum? Oh, yeah, that's right. If I died now, I'd never leave the music box again. Wonderful. _Don't think about that, Ace. Focus on getting to the other side._

I began swimming, slowly and quietly. During my trip over, I got to examine the building. It was made completely out of lavender jade, covered in Oriental carvings with the occasional window, which were all portholes with nine inch thick glass panes. Once I reached the skyscraper, I put my hand to the outer wall and looked up. It was higher than I expected. A good seven feet above my head, meaning I couldn't reach the roof from here. But, if I recalled correctly, every floor had a balcony, including the top floor. I'd just have to find out which side it was on. I swam around the large-unbelievably large-building, sticking close to the wall in hopes that it would either help disguise me or at least discourage any serpents from approaching. I did a half circle before I finally came to the balcony. A foot of water coated it and, unfortunately, the thick decorative jade double doors were sealed shut. However, if I was lucky, they weren't locked. I wasn't going to test that immediately, because, if I did, then by the time the rest of the group got over here, we'd be faced with the problem of traversing a flooded building.

So…I swam back around and to the broken boards where my companions waited.

"Well?" Voski asked, looking pensive.

"Luckily, there's a balcony on the other side. Unluckily, the minute we open the door, we'll need to get down to the bottom floor before things flood. It should take it a while, so we'll more than likely have enough time," I answered, hoisting myself up so that my elbows rested on the planking. "It's worth a shot. Better than having to go all the way back, don't you think?"

"…Yeah, I suppose so," she said, grabbing Saffron's shoulder and giving him a strong order to get Amigo and bring him to her. "You sure you want to risk being in the water? I mean, with Amigo's bright red ass, he'll draw the attention of anything that might be down there, so if it comes up, you'll be dinner just as much as Amigo."

"I don't want to take the chance of him swimming aimlessly and keeping us in the water longer than need be. Besides, if he does bring something to us, it won't matter if I'm on him or not. If he's dinner, we're all dinner," I answered, smiling in spite of the prospect of being eaten. "Don't worry. I don't mind the water. Actually, on the outside, I can't swim at all so this is kind of special for me. Not the circumstances I would _like_, but beggars can't be choosers."

She returned the smile, reaching out to lightly pinch my cheek. "You're not as much of a spoilt brat as I made you out to be."

I grinned, chuckling. "Oh, no, I'm a spoilt brat. I'm extremely selfish. I'm not even going to share the wonderful water with you. It's oh-so-refreshing and full of man-eating fish. A perfect place to swim. In fact, I can't think of anything I'd rather be doing."

"It's not funny," she mumbled, becoming serious once more.

"Calm down," I told her as Saffron came over, yanking on Amigo's reins with all his might. "It's not like we can truly die."

She stared at me, saying something with her eyes that I didn't quite understand. Instead of voicing her thoughts, like she usually did, she grabbed the reins from the kid and handed them to me, then hefted Saffron up onto Amigo's back, right next to the naked girl I'd put up there earlier. There was no telling when that one would wake up, but I wasn't going to leave her for the paper dolls to have. That would be cruel, even for me.

Voski settled onto Amigo's back, Saffron behind her with his arms around Delta, and the white-haired girl draped in front of Voski. Knowing they were ready, I pushed away from the planking and tugged on the reins. Amigo obeyed, slipping into the water with a splash, and swimming along behind me. Halfway to the building, I thought I'd felt something brush against my thigh but, otherwise, we got to the balcony without a hitch. The water was low enough that we could stand, although, the balcony wasn't big enough for everyone to stand on. So, I made them stay on Amigo as I tested the doors. As soon as I turned the doorknob, the water rushed in, pushing forcefully against my ankles, and flung the doors wide open. I heard the resounding bang as the doors hit the walls on the inside and, figuring the noise would draw the attention of one sea creature or another, I dragged Amigo into the building.

I was right. Writhing in the water was a swarm of red and white serpents, spikes and horns trailing along their lengths, and, boy, was I glad we were out of their direct line of sight. If we were still on that balcony…Shit would've hit the fan.

Saffron was gaping at the frothing, angry water that sloshed around with the serpents' every move. Voski looked pale and avoided the problem by simply not looking at it at all. And Amigo's bright feathers were beginning to puff up as he began honking, like swans sometimes did. I yanked on his reins, pulling his head down to mine, and stroked his beak as I coaxed him to silence. Of course, his loud outburst not only sent the serpents' further into a rage, but woke the white-haired girl…Harlow, if I was correct.

She made a pained sound as she sat up, holding her side gingerly. She glanced at the serpents, then down at me, then at Voski. Her eyes were a mix of different shades, such as magenta, burgundy, aubergine, and hints of wine red. Strangely, they lacked pupils, but widened with each new thing she turned to, as if she could still see. I'd never seen that outside of pixies and she didn't look like your average pixie. She said nothing, nothing at all. For a second, I considered trying to explain things to her and put her at ease, but that would take time and time was something I was short on right at the moment. The building was flooding and I didn't want to have to hold my breath on the way down, so now would be a good time to get going. I met the girl's bewildered gaze and said, "I'll explain everything later, but we need to get out of here. Like, now."

I tugged on Amigo's reins, heading for the closest set of stairs. I'd been here before. A long time ago, but I remembered enough to know where the stairs were. I opened the door and paused. There were mannequins in the walls. Mannequin torsos, from the hips up, and all of them seemed to be fastened to the wall somehow. Melted plastic, nails, glue. It was all very unusual. And not what it should have been.

Each mannequin wore sartorial rings, which weren't so out of place, considering this skyscraper was the birthplace of the rings. The mannequins were out of place, though. The paper dolls we'd encountered on our way here had been the mannequins. This building, which had been full of clothing designers at one point in the past, had stopped using plastic models a long, long time ago. Of course, they didn't just toss the old ones. The original mannequins had been put away in a back room. Now, surprisingly, they were out of their storage area, attached to the walls, and wearing outfits from different seasons and color schemes, some outrageous and others…Actually, some of the outfits caught my attention and I snagged the rings on my way down. Never could have too many of them. I even grabbed some for Voski and Saffron…Oh, and now that I thought about it…That Harlow-girl needed clothes more than any of us. So, more rings stashed in my pockets.

I expected the mannequins to thin out the closer to the bottom we got, but the further we went, the more of them there were. And, to add to the creepiness, I felt like I was being watched. I couldn't even rush us, considering water was streaming down the stairs and that meant treacherous footing for me and Amigo both. Voski managed to wriggle down from his back and join me, leaving the other girl with Saffron and Delta. Not that she seemed in a hurry to separate from us. In fact, she'd calmed down and looked perfectly at ease. Not even bothered by her naked state or the mannequins. Actually, I don't think she'd noticed them. She was preoccupied with admiring Delta and trying to pet Saffron's flaming red hair.

Some of the doors we passed had small windows and showed that many of the rooms were indeed flooded and, if not for the sturdy doors, we'd have been in trouble. I only hoped the bottom floor wasn't flooded. The portal to Nikolaschka was there.

At the very bottom of the steps was a set of doors, one leading to the offices in the back, and one leading to the entrance room. Looking through to the offices, I saw that it was flooded and, though nothing was floating around inside the room besides the fish, everything had been pushed away from the outer wall, which had been replaced with a giant fucking hole. The entrance room, however, was dry and safe enough. Or at least what I could see of it.

The fact that the entire building wasn't flooded was all thanks to the reinforced doors. In fact, even the walls had been reinforced with thick metal support beams embedded inside the jade every few feet. Naturally, as the sartorial rings gained more and more attention, the creator, Yoshigi, had to hire more people and get a bigger work space. This skyscraper had started out as no more than a wooden shack in the middle of the towers of wooden shacks that now surrounded it. However, with money, he built upon it and kept building. At one point, it must have occurred to him that the wooden planking wasn't likely to hold the building forever. So, everything inside was reinforced just in case there was a collapse.

Ironically, it wasn't the collapse of the building that killed Yoshigi, but another one of his inventions: the paper doll. It was an accidental invention, a coincidence, just like the sartorial rings. But, after he'd discovered what he'd created, he started using them to replace the lifeless mannequins. He and his workers had been able to see how the outfits would look when worn by living, moving people and they wouldn't have to pay for living, breathing people in the process. The only downside was that the paper dolls began malfunctioning, for an unexplained reason, and things went downhill from there. After many of the workers fled, the paper dolls began to live in the Sartorial Skyscraper, staying in hopes of cornering anyone who dared to wander through. Any of the workers who hadn't been able to flee were trapped here to be tortured by the paper dolls. And Yoshigi was one of the many prisoners. They killed him and when he came back to life, they searched all of Paper Dandelion for him, and killed him again when they found him. It was a repetitive thing.

When the workers came back to life for the first time…It was too late. The ground had been evacuated and everyone had went to the trees above. There were no mounts willing to stray too far from the cities in the sky, which was why Amigo's continued companionship was such a surprise, and the workers had been left to repeatedly die or make a break for the portal, which was usually guarded by the paper dolls. Now, the workers, if they weren't drowning or being eaten by serpents or raped by origami people, had a chance to leave. They would be reborn near where they'd died and that usually meant they were somewhere in Paper Dandelion. To get to their freedom, all they had to do was risk the swim over. Considering the balcony doors had been shut when I got there, I'd say none of them took that chance. Still, freedom was just beyond the doorstep. Well, actually, by opening the door…I might have fucked them over. Yeah, oops…Let's just hope they can hold their breath for a long time.

And, truthfully, if Yoshigi got out of Jack-Rosé, then he'd probably wage a war. I mean, after his business went under and production stopped completely, someone else stepped up and took over, making money off of Yoshigi's invention. And it was Yoshigi's fault. He'd been a miser (Not surprising, considering the music box was full of criminals.), using the cheapest means possible, which was why he'd fancied the paper dolls so much. He didn't have to pay them, so he'd rather use them than human beings. It was something I'd become accustomed to seeing as a future businessman myself. I'd gotten many offers from entrepreneurs who wanted to either merge with my company or buy it from me before I officially took over. I'd turned every single one of them down when I realized their penny-pinching natures. My father's businesses were respectable, but I still didn't care much for the man. He'd never done anything to me personally (He'd died before I was born…) and, while he wasn't a popular man inside of the Norowa-Reta, he was plenty appreciated by the normal people from England and America and Japan…and every other place you could think of. They were the reason his businesses were still doing so well.

He'd been outside of the Norowa-Reta, which wasn't illegal for him…because he didn't have a devil fruit ability. I'd never leave it, legally, but I could control my businesses from home, no problem. And, if necessary, I could hire someone to go outside of the Norowa-Reta for me.

Despite the fact that many laws were different, the outside and inside still had some contact, if not a lot. They didn't try to help us solve our differences and didn't get involved in our fights, which was why the whole pirate era we had going on was still in progress. But a few big-time businesses, such as my father's, did get to trade with them. Now, if only the music box was like that, I wouldn't be so damned clingy when it came to my life. I mean, I'd die to protect someone I loved, but I'd really rather live a little while longer just to interact with my friends and family. Seriously. No joke. I may not be my biggest fan, but I sure as hell wasn't suicidal. Okay…Maybe I was a little suicidal on the rare occasion, but that's understandable.

"Ace?" Voski asked, touching my shoulder.

"Ah!" I nearly jumped straight out of my shoes, forced from my inner thoughts. Then I realized I was just standing there, right in front of the door that led to our escape from the flooding building. The water was gathering at the bottom of the steps and I reached out, opening the door in front of me, and entering the entrance room. It was large and spacious, everything made from jade, just like the rest of the building. In the center of the room, however, was a large slab of rectangular ice. It didn't appear to be melting and was glowing a pale blue. It was also the portal. Shockingly, we weren't the only ones in the room, although the others didn't appear to want to leave.

There was a monkey wearing a sartorial ring. It was about half a foot shorter than the Harlow girl, adorned with a headdress composed of leather strings, silver beads, and bright white feathers. It also wore a vest and tiger-print shorts, both white and black, lined with fur. Shiny silver studs pierced its brows and lips while thin chains dangled from its ears and decorated its throat and wrists. Its fur was black as night and its eyes were a deep, dark brown.

Next to the monkey, seated on the floor, was a slim, healthy man with midnight blue hair that fell to his hips and calm chocolate eyes, much lighter than his companion's. And…all he wore was a fuzzy black loincloth that didn't do its job very well, which I wasn't in the mood for. Yeah, thanks for the sneak peek but I didn't really want to know what was behind curtain number one…Though that might be something I could appreciate more later…when I'm not faced with the problem of a flooding building. Actually, take that back, I wasn't going to have sex with this guy, no matter what. Not to be rude or judgmental…but he had four arms. And on top of that, he was surrounded by a pile of naked mannequins. Kind of unnerving.

…Usually I could overlook a man's imperfections, as long as he was fuckable, but creepy was one of those flaws that I just…couldn't have sex with. It was why me and Hawkins never had sex. He could be pretty fucking creepy sometimes…That and I really didn't want to know what kind of face he'd make when he had an orgasm. If he's not high, he's expressionless. If he's high, he's either mildly amused or…quirky. Yeah, let's go with quirky. Anyways, I haven't seen a lot of expression from him, even though I've known him a long time. And 'sexual pleasure: intense or otherwise' is one of the expressions I hope to never see from him. Ever.

"Um…Hi?" I ventured, looking past him and the monkey to the portal. "Do you mind if we just…you know, leave?"

Voski jabbed me in the rib-cage with her elbow, glowering at me. "Sir, the building is flooding. It'd probably be a good idea to escape before we all drown."

"…Are you sure?" he asked, confusing the hell out of me.

"…Do what now?" I questioned, staring at him stupidly.

He narrowed his eyes at me, his eyebrow twitching. "Is the building truly flooding?"

"Yeah. Why would we lie about that?" I responded.

"Then I hope to see you on the other side." The man nodded his farewell and stood, going to the block of ice. Before he slipped through the portal, he called to his monkey, "Come along, Tane. We shouldn't dawdle. Our new friends will be along shortly."

"Hey, Voski," I growled. "Want a serving of creepy for dinner tonight?"

"Don't start that, Ace. I was only trying to be nice," she told me, scowling.

"Yeah, well, do me a favor and stop trying so hard." I snatched up Amigo's reins once more and looked around, hoping there wasn't anyone else here. Across from us was the front door to the building, made completely of solid glass, which gave me a wonderful view of the dark sandy floor and…the distant, shady figure of a serpent. "Okay, everybody to Nikolaschka, now. Hurry, hurry. I think there's something in the water."

"You think? After what happened earlier, you think?" she muttered incredulously. "We know this, Ace. We knew this a while ago."

"Yeah, well, I think this one can see us." I pointed out the door, watching her expression as she followed the line of my finger.

She pursed her lips, clearing her throat once, then twice, before asking quietly, "…Is it just me or is it getting bigger?"

"Closer, not bigger," I responded, towing Amigo and his riders over to the ice block. "Which is why I said hurry."

Voski rushed to join me, grabbing onto my arm and glancing quickly between me and the entrance. "That door is made of glass, isn't it?"

"Yeah. Really thick glass." I smiled and patted her shoulder. "It'll still break if that thing rams it and I had my fair share of swimming for today. I mean, if you really feel like going for a dip..."

"Right, shut up," she ordered, rolling her eyes. "Why do I even bother conversing with you? You're nothing but sarcasm, witty remarks, and insults."

I smirked. "Charming, right?"

"Just go." She took the reins from me and shoved my shoulder, sending me through the portal.

On the other side, I stood in two feet of snow and it was still snowing. I was wet, tired, hungry, and, now, I was in the company of a creep and his monkey. Wonderful. My day was shaping up to be much better than I expected.

* * *

It was a good thing that I'd grabbed so many sartorial rings, otherwise my companions would have frozen to death by now. Thankfully, I'd known the snow was coming and had purposefully picked up some winter clothing for everyone. They were all bundled in thick, fuzzy coats and mittens and knee-high, fur-lined boots. Every single one of them. I, however, was in swim trunks and flip-flops. And perfectly content that way.

"Ace, put on some damned clothes! It hurts just looking at you," Voski snarled, white clouds puffing out in front of her face as she breathed. "Showoff."

I merely grinned, sorely tempted to get down and dirty in my birthday suit. It might actually be better that way. Nikolaschka was a hot-spot, meaning I would occasionally burst into flames, which was all fine and dandy with me. Not so much with other people. Especially those nearby. Heh, yeah. Need I say more? No? Didn't think so.

I just didn't want to burn any good clothes while I was here, so I was walking around in snow, half-naked, on the verge of going stark-naked, with my various companions, who were clothed in multiple layers. Yep, my companions. Saffron, the eater of bugs. Voski, the chatty blonde. Delta, the lazy sloth. Clifford, the big red d-Oops. Correction, Amigo, the big red bird. Harlow, the silent white girl. Tane, the outfitted monkey. And…the creepy guy, who just so happened to be Yoshigi. Awesome.

After a long stretch of quiet, I huffed out a breath and began, "Four arms, huh? I guess that's better than four-eyes. Get it? Get it?"

"Ace," Voski warned.

"Just trying to lighten the mood," I grumbled.

She stared ahead, her eyes peering through the sheet of constantly falling snow, and she muttered obscenities about going the wrong way and my 'dysfunctional' pocket watch. The thing that really got me was that she made sure to say it loud enough for me to hear, which couldn't really be considered a mutter considering everyone (Except Harlow, but she'd taken to staying close to me…) was keeping their distance in case of spontaneous combustion. I don't think any of these people ever really considered that an issue before they met me. Ah, all the new things I'm helping them experience.

"Have I made the joke about Clifford, the big r-?" I began, only for Voski to cut me off with a harsh glare.

"Yes, Ace, you have. Now, shut the fuck up!"

I turned to face forward again, sighing. She really didn't like the cold. We continued walking for a few minutes before I suddenly stopped, squinting into the distance. "Hey, I-"

"Shut up," Voski interrupted without even looking at me.

I tried again. "But-"

She whirled on me, pointing a finger at me like she thought that was intimidating. "What is it that you don't get about 'shut up'? Shut? Or up?"

"Well, shut don't go up, so…" I began without thinking, wincing as the pissed-off look on her face intensified.

"I'm not in the mood for your nonexistent humor," she hissed, taking a step closer as if she intended to come over and beat the living shit out of me.

"Spontaneous combustion," I said. That was probably the best thing I had ever had the privilege of threatening someone with. I would have to do that more often.

"Ace," she growled.

"Look, calm down. Lorraine is right over there," I told her, pointing to the distant town. I could see the lights and, if she would just look, I'm pretty sure that would make her day. Hell, she'd probably run the rest of the way.

"See? That's not funny. That's not the least bit funny." She rubbed at her forehead, giving a drawn-out sigh. "Just be quiet for the rest of the trip."

"He's tellin' the truth," Saffron said, tugging at her coat and grinning like this was the best news he'd received in years. "Look!"

Voski did indeed look, her eyes widening and brimming with tears. "Oh, thank the heavens…I want a hot bath."

"Are you crying?"

"How many times do I have to tell you to shut up?" she mumbled, though it lacked any real bite as she turned and took a deep breath. Then she went running through the snow, pushing through it with pure willpower.

"Am I funny now?" I called after her.

"Shut up!"

* * *

_**First off, I'd like to thank those of you who have been kind enough to review. Despite the fact that I said reviews really didn't matter to me, I do like to look and see if people are enjoying what I'm putting out. It's nice to get some feedback. So, everyone who's reviewed, thank you so much. It really does help keep me writing. And I hope these fast updates make up for that long break away from the story. I've especially noticed some consistent reviewers and I'm happy you guys are sticking along for the ride.**_

_**:D I just thought that it'd be nice to make sure you guys knew that I actually do read the reviews, even if I don't reply to them. I don't even know how to reply to half of them. 'Hey, I loved it.' ':D Yeah, I thought you might, so...Happy birthday!' Yeah, no. I'm not really good at that. Obviously. I mean, there's nothing wrong with just saying that you loved it. That's fine, man. I'm just saying the problem is on my end. Anyways...Sorry for not touching up with Marco, but that's in the next chapter. Hope you guys enjoyed!**_


	21. Once Upon A Time

Marco sat back in his seat, staring at the monitor. He'd thought he'd get a hint as to Ace's whereabouts, _something_, if he would just rewind the recording. All it did was raise more questions. So many questions with no reasonable explanation. He watched and re-watched it, looping it, and all it resulted in was him becoming more and more frantic. This…couldn't possibly be happening. But…according to his Haki, Ace really truly wasn't at his house and, if he wasn't there and the tape wasn't wrong, then…was he dead? Marco's heart gave an immediate, painful squeeze in his chest, his breath hitching. Obviously, he wasn't mentally ready to jump to that conclusion. He needed to exhaust all other options first. He _had _to.

It would've been a good idea to call Thatch and tell him. Or maybe Pops. Hell, anyone would do, as long as they told him he was hallucinating. Because people don't just disappear right out of their own beds. The blonde gave a strangled groan, clenching his hand in his hair as he played the recording another time. Once again, Ace disappeared, right out of his bed. It looked as if something invisible was slowly eating him, from his arms and legs to his head and chest. What was worse was that Ace didn't appear to care. Marco sank back, grabbing his phone and scrolling through his contacts. His thumb paused over Thatch's name and he bit his lower lip. What was he going to tell him? 'Hey, Ace disappeared, literally.' Yeah. 'Cause that would work. …Not. Marco huffed out a breath and grit his teeth as he pressed the call button, putting the phone to his ear. Why did everything get crazy when it came to Ace?

"Damn it, how many times are you going to wake me up in the god awful hours of the morning? I'd really like a full night of sleep, you know," Thatch said as he answered.

The blonde couldn't explain over the phone. He wouldn't believe him. "Yeah, yeah. My house. Now."

* * *

"Ace! Hurry up! I'm freezing!" Voski complained, pawing at my shoulder as I tried to use my new guild ring to open the door. Lorraine was a village snuggled into the snowy, rolling hills of Nikolaschka, all petite and quiet and cozy. Actually, most of Nikolaschka was like that. It was one of my favorite places in all of the music box.

"Just give me a second," I growled back, elbowing her away from me. I was in just as much of a hurry as she was. I felt like my stomach was about to eat my spine and it was awful. I was so damned hungry. There was bound to be something to eat inside the cabin, My ring fit perfectly into the doorknob, which didn't surprise me, but did make me feel just that much more happy. Of course, once I got the door open, Voski quickly shoved me aside and dove over the back of the sofa to land haphazardly on the cushions, only to elicit a squeal as she scrambled up.

"Holy shit! Who the hell are you!?" Voski shouted, scrambling away from the sofa.

I watched as someone sat up, turning to look at me and my unusual gathering rather than at the woman who'd rolled on top of him. "Hi," I said, smiling hesitantly.

This really came as no surprise. It wasn't like me and Voski were the only ones in the Travelers Guild. I mean, seriously. There were thousands of others and crossing paths with at least one of them was to be expected. However, this guy was a little…odd. His sclera was pure black, his irises ruby red, and his hair a pale shade of caramel. It was shoulder length, just a tad longer than my own, and it tangled with the earrings he wore, which were long, wispy gold feathers. Draped around his body was this sheet of scarlet silk. It wasn't something I'd define as clothing. It was just a sheet wrapped about his body in a way that covered the important bits while revealing his thighs and ribcage. What caught my attention, though, was the fact that he wasn't wearing a guild ring.

"His name is Itzal," came another voice. This one came from the hall on the right side of the room, probably leading into the kitchen and dining areas. A fuzzy head of mint green popped around the corner. "And I am Serkan. The two youngsters right here are Dulce and Din."

This 'Serkan' fellow was short with chubby cheeks and beady black eyes, along with nonexistent eyebrows and one large bucktooth peeking out of his mouth. He wore a yellow and purple tweed suit, which was an absolute eyesore, and leather moccasins. His eyes weren't locked on me, but on Harlow, and there was some kind of emotion in his stare. He smiled warmly at her and placed his hands, with their fat fingers, atop the heads of two kids.

One wore a black fedora with a silken gold belt around it. He had long, curly green hair the shame shade as Serkan but all he wore was a suit jacket and button up shirt, both far too loose on him. Also, clashing with everything else, was a pair of dark purple and white sneakers. His eyes, however, were glowing grass green. Crisp and clear. He was gazing at Harlow, surprise written on his face. Actually, Harlow was so close, I thought he might actually be looking at me. That wouldn't be out of the ordinary, considering my wardrobe, but no one else seemed bothered by it. Curious people we'd come across.

The other, the smaller of the two and the female, had bright turquoise hair that slowly faded to midnight blue tips, framing her face in gentle waves and sweeping over the tops of her shoulders. Her eyes matched the tips of her hair and shared Harlow's lack of pupils. She was probably the most eye-catching of them all. First off, she had on a black jacket with a bunch of pockets and zippers on it and floppy puppy (Or…perhaps bunny?) ears on the hood with big red buttons for eyes. Underneath that, she wore a small white dress with a high collar, lacy front tied up in cornflower blue ribbon, and a ruffled knee-length skirt that brushed the tops of her dolphin rain boots. Snaking out of the bottom of her skirt was a slim black goat tail that twitched as it dragged along the floor behind her.

Adding onto all that, she also had a puppet on her right hand. It was a black bunny wearing an eye patch with a crimson heart on it. Dangling around its neck was a mess of expensive looking bracelets and, around its tiny cotton-stuffed arms, were gaudy rings. What really freaked me out though was the rabbit's mouth. It was lined with shards of glass and metal, all sharp enough to easily cut someone open. She played with the abomination, the makeshift teeth clacking loudly in the uncomfortable silence as she bounced on her feet, ogling us with her round, dark glittering eyes.

My stomach gave a loud, rumbling growl and I put a hand to my middle. Damn…I felt like I was going to die. I needed food. Now. Forget everything else. My stomach was like my second brain and I couldn't function with it in such a state of emptiness.

"Okay…How about we continue introductions after dinner? I'm starved," I cheerily announced, smiling. _Just ignore the little girl for now_, I thought. "I hope you don't mind us intruding, but we really need a place to stay."

"Oh, no, that's quite alright. There should be enough room for everyone, if a few are willing to take to the floor tonight. The dining room is this way," Serkan said, before turning to go back down the hall he'd exited out of. The little boy followed after him, but the little girl stood there silently and stared at us. "Come along, Din. Itzal. Before the food gets cold."

The other man, the one with red eyes, stood and calmly made his way after them. Still, the little girl lingered. I didn't dare move. Well, I sort of flinched when she clacked the puppet's teeth together one last time, but, after that, she turned to follow after the rest of them. I sighed and faced my group. Harlow seemed completely undisturbed, which I'd come to think of as normal for her. Saffron had a weird expression and muttered things about girls and boys and strange grownups. Voski looked about ready to throttle someone in all her rage about this 'floor' business. She was adamant that she would get a bed if she had to kill a man for it. Yoshigi and his monkey were calm and collected. Me and him…I wasn't quite sure I wanted to know his story. He got along fine with Voski, but he'd barely said a word to me in the last four hours of tedious walking. Which I was fine with.

Out the gaping front door was Amigo, who I would need to bundle up in the stable if I didn't want him to freeze to death. I huffed out another long, long breath before informing the others that I'd only be a minute. I left them to handle things on the inside as I went out and took care of Amigo's lodging. He wasn't made for the winter climate, that much was obvious, and something would have to be done sooner or later. There's a reason the birds fly south for winter.

Once he was secured in the stables, snuggled up in the warmth of hay and blankets, I returned to the cabin, which was rather roomy and had a cozy, winter cottage kind of feel to it. The furniture was worn and the floor had scuffs marks, making the place look more lived in. The fireplace was alight, happily crackling with a bright glow. In the dining room, I found Voski immersed in conversation, smiling and at ease.

"Ace! Ace!" she called when she saw me enter the room. "You'll never believe this. Serkan, here, knows Harlow!"

"You're right. I don't believe it. I mean, that is _so _hard to believe," I responded sarcastically, rolling my eyes as I wedged myself into the same seat as Saffron and Delta. I didn't wait for anyone to make a smart remark or whatnot. I began eating and, damn it, the food was tasty and the drinks were refreshing.

"What I meant was that she's a science project," Voski clarified, sticking her tongue out at me.

"Harlow is the result of Project ID," Serkan said, as if that spelled everything out.

I didn't even glance up as I ate. What was the point? These people weren't making any sense and looking at them would only give me a headache. Too many people. Nine people crowded around a table meant to sit five. It was almost too much to take. And I wasn't even including Delta and Tane in the head count.

"They might be the ticket to getting out of the music box after death," Voski stated, boldly and clearly. That got my attention. For sure. "Aha! I knew that'd get you!"

"'Mposhiball," I told them around my food. _Impossible._

"Not impossible. In fact, it sounds logical to me. Just listen to the facts." Voski turned to Serkan and gestured for him to take over. I was paying attention because this would eventually concern me. Getting out of the music box after I died? That'd…be something else. Maybe not something good. It all depended on what the stakes were.

"Well, pixies come and go as they please, and I've been looking into that. What's different between them and us that makes things the way they are? It's not something learned, like Haki, so it has to be something more complex. Like…Well, genes. They have specific genes that can manipulate the music box's functions, such as the Angelbane, which is the invisible force keeping us here. While they can't destroy it, they can pass through spots where it's weaker," Serkan explained, leaning his elbows on the table and staring at me with a passionate glow in his eyes. "A pixie gave me a large supply of tissue and blood samples in exchange for materials from my lab. When I first began this project, I tried to genetically alter Itzal's genes. But his genetic makeup was set in stone. It wasn't going to change without partially destroying the traits that we'd need to cross over. So, giving up on that, I tried it on my son, Dulce, who was far younger and had been born in the music box. I'd thought that maybe that would make a difference. It didn't."

Oh, great, this was a story about failure to figure things out. Like I hadn't heard about them before. If Serkan thought he was the first person to try and get out of the music box, he was sorely mistaken. He was far from the first and probably far from the last. The music box wasn't a foe so easily conquered.

Serkan seemed to sense my waning interest in the subject so he rushed to continue. "So, I began from scratch. Right from the start. I made artificial eggs and semen and stored them in homemade incubators upon pollination. It took several batches to get it to work and actually catch…But, in the end, what few actually survived still had the partially mutated gene. Din and Harlow are the results of those tests."

"…So, no real progress on this whole getting out of the music box deal, huh?" I grumbled before shoving a chicken leg down my throat. _Just as I expected._

"Actually, Harlow and Din have both shown signs of carrying pixie traits, like physical mutations, such as the lack of pupils and Din's tail and the tiny horns hidden in Harlow's hair," Dulce, the little boy, responded. He sounded quite knowledgeable about this whole ordeal. Perhaps because he was Serkan's son. Probably.

"But it's all merely physical," Serkan said quickly. "They can't do anything about getting us out of the music box. They can sense the Angelbane, but they've never interacted with it. And, if they can, they don't know how."

"So, you're saying that the mutation of that gene is why they can't help us?" Voski questioned. "Any ideas on how to fix that?"

"No, actually," Serkan said.

"Want to tell us more about it? Maybe we could help," she pressed, smiling sweetly at him. "Please?"

"Eager to leave?" I mumbled.

"I'm sorry. I can't tell you anything more," Serkan told us, pursing his lips. "They may be science experiments, but, first and foremost, they're my family and friends. Whatever they're capable of, it doesn't matter. I'm no longer interested in leaving the music box and I won't have anyone treating them like nothing more than lab rats."

While I didn't particularly like what his response entailed about my future, it was an admirable response all the same…so I stuffed a chicken leg into my mouth and grinned around it, saying, "'Ell shaid." _Well said._

"What do you mean?!" Voski exclaimed, slamming her hands on the table. "What about getting us all out of here?"

"I've made a family here and life's not so bad. I mean, think about it, in our world, everyone assumes we're dead. If we all suddenly leave the music box, things will get a little out of hand. If things were to go as badly as I predict they would, it'd be worse than the Holocaust. There are people in here who died in the 1800s, dear. We return to our world…looking just as we did on the day we supposedly died…Even though years and decades have passed for many of us…What would the world think? How would they react? What would they say about us, to us? What would our loved ones think, if they're still alive? What would they say? Do? Would they believe it? Would their mental health survive such a shock? Would our return be good or bad? What kind of impact would it have? Would it be worth it? Honestly, it's impossible to know, but, here, in the music box..." Serkan settled back into his chair, reaching over to his son to pat his head affectionately. He didn't have to finish that sentence. I knew exactly what he was getting at and he'd made a damned good point. It wouldn't have made sense to me if not for Voski and I owed it to her to make it easier on her.

I glanced at Voski, frowning as I set my plate back down and swallowed my food, chasing it with a swig of my drink. "Voski…At least, here, you know what to do to survive."

Her eyes snapped to mine, widening slightly. I knew she was thinking of that talk we'd had, the one about Batida and the inhabitants, and she smiled softly at me even as tears welled in her eyes. She didn't want to let it go just like that. She probably wanted to get out and run to everyone she'd left behind. She didn't want to accept it, but she was going to drop the subject. Because, honestly, it was a lot like the issues of Batida. Getting out didn't mean it would get better. In fact, there were no promises of survival and acceptance upon escape. It was a little daunting, even to me.

* * *

"I'm not telling you to give up," I muttered. It was after dinner and me and Voski were outside, on the wraparound screened-in porch, watching the snow falling. She was bundled up in blankets with a cup of hot cocoa cradled close to her. I stood with my hands touching the thin screen between me and the snow beyond it, trying to think of how to explain things. Finally, I decided that if I just talked, things would eventually come out the way I wanted. "I'm just asking you if you think it's worth it. I mean, I think it's worth it. I never want to feel the pain of losing my family and friends. I don't know how you feel, but I'm willing to face anything, hardship or solace, as long as I get to be with them. And that's the kind of resolve a person should have when confronted with our kind of situation."

She sipped at her cocoa for a bit, staring out at the snowy hills before us. "Yeah…But I've actually been here for a while. I died in 1964, Ace. Before, I was just so eager to get out of here that I wasn't really thinking, but…now that I've thought about it…I don't know what to expect. The world must have changed since my death. Are the people I knew even alive anymore? And, anyways, this is a lot to take in. I've been here for so long. Can my freedom really lie in those two girls?"

"You know," I began, white puffs of air carried on each of my breaths. "I've been thinking, too. All through dinner. And I can't see how the outside could be worse. Yeah, Serkan did point out some complications and maybe he's right. Maybe everyone we once knew will look at us odd. Maybe people will scorn us and shun us. Maybe they'll hunt us down and try to kill us. Confine us and slaughter us. But, through all of that, I still think it'd be better. At least, then, there'd be a time limit on our suffering, because there…people only die once. Well, normally. There's this one guy I know who ate a devil fruit and died…then came back to life as a skeleton. It's all really weird."

"Devil fruits are weird. Period," she mumbled past a grin. Then silence descended over us, not uncomfortable, almost companionable. Voski was staring into her hot cocoa with a contemplative look plastered to her face. "…Um, Ace? Thanks."

"No thanks needed. Besides, it's not like I did anything worth thanking me for," I informed her, standing and preparing to go back inside now that I'd coaxed a nice, little smile out of her. Oh, and she was in a good enough mood to try to show gratitude, reluctant though it was. Though I hadn't known her long, I _felt _as if I'd known her for years. Right now, I knew that she would be okay. She'd be depressed and pensive, but she'd eventually move on. At least, that's what my gut was telling me.

"No, you did. While most people would come out here and try to tell me that my family and friends would still love me, no matter what, even though they can't possibly know that…you didn't. You didn't reassure me that everything would be alright. You just told me that, if we did get out, it wouldn't last forever and that is one of the most amazingly honest things anyone has ever told me." She wiped at her eye, scowling at the wet stain on her sleeve before she looked back at me. "Whether I died or everyone else died, one way or another, things would come to an end, be it my bliss or my suffering. That's one of the biggest differences between this world and your world. Here, everything lasts forever. There, nothing lasts forever. And, before I died, that was something I didn't like to think about. But, now, it's a very refreshing thought. So, thank you for reminding me."

"…People unhappy with immortality? Who'd've thunk it?" I chuckled, shaking my head as I turned to go back inside. But, just as I turned, my devil fruit had a fit. One second, I looked perfectly normal, or as normal as a guy in swim trunks can when he's on the porch of a winter cabin. The next, I'm a plume of hot orange flames. I immediately smothered them with my mind, wrestling for control over it. I could hear Voski squealing like a stuck pig and yelling profanities about being on fire. By the time I had my power under control again, she was stamping out the flames attached to her blankets.

"Oi, Voski! The fire's out. Calm down before you put a hole in the porch," I told her, reaching to grab her as the last of the flames were put out.

She swatted my hands away, glowering evilly. "Damn it! That's it! You're sleeping outside!"

"What!?"

* * *

"_What the fuck were you thinking, Ace!? I should've let you rot! This is, by far, the worst thing you have ever done!" Dike shrieked at me, slamming the van door. Shrimp was standing in the doorway to the house, his brows furrowed. Peering through the living room window was Chicken, mostly hidden behind the curtain. Across the street, Marco was just now getting home, carrying some grocery bags. He paused after kicking his car door shut, eyeing us from his front step. I waved to him, then grinned confidently at Dike._

"_I've done a lot worse. This is just the worst of what you know about," I told her, lacking remorse. What was a fourteen year old boy supposed to do? Feel bad for ejaculating in public? Yeah, no. I have an intense sex-drive. If I feel like wanking, I'm gonna do it. Probably shouldn't have done it in the movie theater, though. Especially considering there were children in the audience. But…Imagining Marco in pirate garb, working under the merciless sun on an island beach, digging for treasure with his shirt draped over the sand and his firm muscles rippling with each strike of the shovel, sweat slithering down his forehead and neck, gliding along his long spine and skating over his abdomen…Oh, dear. _Stop thinking, Ace, _I hissed internally. _Before you get horny again.

_Dike's hand hit the top of the van, the one she barely fit into, and she growled, "You came in a little girl's popcorn!"_

"_Just giving it a little flavor," I joked, smiling from ear to ear, almost rivaling the width of one of Luffy's smiles. "And, anyways, the girl wasn't all that young."_

"_She was eleven, Ace," Dike ground out, swiftly turning away from me in a way that signified she was done having this conversation. She marched up the stairs and into the house, Shrimp trailing along behind her so he could quietly shut the door behind them._

_I heaved a sigh, muttering "Oh, well. This is my last day. After this, he's not going to tolerate it."_

"_Who _would _tolerate that?"_

_My teeth smashed together instantly, my frustration building. _I can't deal with him right this second. I'm not prepared…_ But I faced him with a smile, asking with one of my more pleasant voices, "Hey, something you want with me?"_

"_Well, first, I want to scold you for doing whatever it is that you did. Bad boy! Don't let it happen again! …Then I want to ask you to come down to the orphanage later today. That'd be great," Marco said, shifting his groceries in his arms. He wasn't going to really scold me for it. I'd been getting into a lot of trouble lately. A lot. I'd needed the distractions. Still needed them. Hell, a few hours before, I'd crossed a line and even gotten into trouble with the police. But, oh, well. I was rich and money went far in this world. "You're coming, right?"_

_It was obvious he didn't have a clue what was going to happen after today. I mean, I'd slowly distanced myself from him, and many others, over the last five months, blaming it on school work and detention hall and the such. It wouldn't be as hard to separate from them when the time finally came. And…Today was my last day. Today was my fourteenth birthday and my last day of being able to indulge in bouts of…well, bouts of Marco. Pixie-Dust wouldn't allow any slipups to go unpunished after midnight tonight. No, not Pixie-Dust. The night crawler. He was different, now, without his wings. He didn't _feel _like the same pixie as before. He was cruel and terrifying, but he'd made some valid points about my feelings._

_Tomorrow, Marco and I would officially be on 'bad terms' and that would be the end of it. I would never tell him about my feelings. I would never tell him about how I dreamed of the times he visited the orphanage because those times were among the fondest of my memories. I wouldn't even act civil around him. I had to maintain distance, more than just physically. Things were going to change._

_I huffed out a breath, feeling forlorn and…alone. "Why?"_

"_Just do it, okay? And I'm not going to tell Pops about what you've done, alright? We can worry about it another day," Marco told me, smiling his friendly smile. The one that made me love him even more and my heart squeezed with the painful realization that I might not see that expression ever again. _

_I fought the tears that threatened to swell up in my eyes, breathing deeply. Today was my last day. It kept running through my head. I couldn't put it out of my mind. _Today was my last day._ I wanted to spend it with Marco. I already knew what was at the orphanage and he would definitely be there. Because we were family, which was the whole reason I couldn't keep on lusting after him. Why had it taken me so long to realize how wrong it was? Even after Gramps spelled it out to me? I shouldn't have sat around, moping in denial, telling myself it would work somehow. I should have been doing this the whole time. Breaking it off. Distance was key. With it, my feelings would fade and I could move on. "Okay. I'll be there in about an hour and a half."_

"_Alright, then. I'll see you there."_

_This was the last time I would actually accept this offer, the offer that came every year on the first day of January. It was for my birthday party. As Marco returned to his house, waving at me as he opened his door and smiling that heart wrenching smile once more, I felt a tear clinging to my eyelashes. The door closed, feeling like the beginning of a wall being built between us. As the tears streamed down my face, I went to prepare for the last of my birthday parties._

_It was exactly an hour and a half later when I stood right at the doors of the orphanage. I grasped the doorknob, pulled in a deep, deep breath, and forced all of my negative emotions away. Today was my last day and, damn it, I was going to make the most of it. As I opened the door, I was greeted by darkness. I closed the door behind me and went straight to the hang-out, where the older orphans usually retreated to, to escape the noise of the other children, and where Pops spent the afternoons. I didn't bump into anything on my way, despite the darkness. I knew the orphanage too well to do that. They rarely changed things here. It was a home, not a business. As long as it was fit for children to live in, they wouldn't change it. They replaced or repaired things when they were broken, but, otherwise, things were left untouched. _

_The floor was worn out from all the footfalls, spilt food, and skinned knees that it had been through. The walls were decorated with framed photos of the children that had come into Pops' care since the beginning of the orphanage, along with years worth of crayons and markers as high as the toddlers could reach, some of the doodles mine. The furniture had its fair share of scratches and dents from all the roughhousing and careless mishaps. I didn't need light to know what the place looked like. It was my home. The place felt comfortable and gave me a feeling of warmth and reassurance, encouragement if you will. I loved it. It was more of a home to me than the house that I resided in these days. It wasn't like my house. It wasn't posh. It wasn't filled with expensive things that I'd bought when trying to cope with moving out of the orphanage. But, even without those things, it had something more, something better. Oh, so much better. It had Pops, life, family, comfort and acceptance, some of my best memories. It was hard to believe I had been able to walk away from this, to leave, to go with Gramps. But it wasn't like they'd never accept me back here. I was always welcome. Or, at least, the me that they knew. I'm not so sure they'd welcome the _real _me._

_When I entered the hang-out and called for Marco, the lights flicked on. A banner was strung across the room, declaring 'Happy Birthday!' to me just as everyone else shouted it, and I grinned wider than I had in all my years. It wasn't until I was this close to losing these precious moments that I realized just how much they meant to me. I was going to miss this. I was going to miss seeing Marco across the road, smiling that damnable smile of his and waving at me as I got back from school. I was going to miss inviting him over to dinner and conversing over trivial things in life that weren't so trivial to me now. Thatch's clever yet childish pranks, Izo's latest development in fashion, the details of Marco's career and the stories of his students misbehaving in class._

_I forced those thoughts from my mind, kept smiling, chatted to everyone and anyone who approached, holding myself back from breaking down. _You're a man. Don't cry in front of them, _I reminded myself consistently throughout the evening. I was enjoying myself. I really was. But there were moments where I was melancholic. If anyone noticed and bothered to ask about it, I told them that I'd been doing some things I shouldn't have and I was thinking about ways to remedy the mess I'd made. Most of them congratulated me on becoming mature, laughing when I scowled, while others simply nodded approval. They didn't know I was talking about my feelings for Marco and I didn't want to know what they'd say if I told them._

_At the end of the party, Marco offered to give me a lift home. He put my many gifts in the back of his car and chatted to me the whole way back. He even asked me if I felt any older, to which I responded that I felt old as dirt. He dropped me off, helped me carry my presents inside, then headed home. After shutting the door behind him, I leaned heavily on it and whispered, "Distance is key."_

I blinked my eyes open as light washed over my face, mumbling with displeasure. "Mm?"

"Ace?" Voski asked, kneeling down next to me, the lantern in her hand swaying with the movement. She was wrapped up in jackets and blankets alike, cheeks flushed from the cold. We were on the hill behind the cabin. I'd chosen this place as the spot I'd sleep, considering I was banned from the inside and this spot had a wonderful view of the night sky. The snow clouds were gone, the sky was clear, the stars and the moon were bright and cheery. I'd fallen asleep staring up at that beautiful sight. It was no wonder I'd dreamt of Marco. I could almost see him in his phoenix form, circling the tree tops, his sleek glowing tail feathers whirling in the wind created by his powerful wings as everyone on the ground below mistook him for a star. Even here, thoughts of him chased me. Even after all this time, I'd never once felt as if I was coming closer to getting over him. Yet, all I could do was ignore my feelings and keep my distance.

I sighed, not chilled by the snow that cushioned my back but by the realization that once I was out of the music box again, if I got out, then I'd be back to stressing over Marco. Damn it. Why did I have to dream about that day? Why was I bothered by it? You'd think, after all the dreams and relived memories, I'd stop caring. But, no, it got harder every single day, every damned second. But…distance was key. Still, keeping my distance was getting harder, too.

"Here."

Peering over at Voski, I saw her holding a blanket out to me, staring at the ground. Smiling as I sat up, I brushed the snow off my shoulders, which was much easier than it was to brush thoughts of Marco out of my mind. "I don't need it."

"I'm trying to apologize, Ace," she muttered, scowling at me.

"Oh, does that mean I can come inside?" I questioned hopefully, accepting the blanket. Just because I couldn't feel the cold didn't mean I couldn't feel the moistness when it melted or the how unyielding the ground beneath it was. It was nothing like a nice, comfy bed.

Voski reached over, grabbing my shoulder in a firm grip. Before she stood, she said, plain and simple, "No."

She turned and began walking through the snow, but she stopped and looked back at me. Her expression was thoughtful, her eyes full of curiosity, and she seemed to be holding herself back from something. I gave her a wry grin, rolling my eyes heavenward. "What is it, Voski?"

"Who's Marco?"

My grin faltered for a second, then completely disappeared. I glowered at her, my fingers twisting in the blanket. "How do you know that name?"

"You were grumbling in your sleep. I managed to catch that and…You don't have to answer if you don't want to. I was just…I shouldn't have pried," she fumbled, her words uncertain and quiet.

After a minute of silent deliberation, my gaze softened and I moved to drape the blanket over the snow next to me, patting it as I glanced up at her. "Marco is a long story. And not a pleasant one. If you still want to hear about him, you'd best sit down."

Voski swept her hair out of her face as she gingerly placed herself on the blanket, staring at me expectantly. She was eager to hear about my past, apparently, and I couldn't see the harm in telling her. Besides reliving it, I mean. That was a definite downside. Still, who was she going to tell? Pixie-Dust? He knew the story pretty damn well. And she couldn't tell Marco or Thatch or anyone outside of the music box. Meaning, I didn't have a reason to worry. Well, maybe she'd ridicule me, but she didn't seem like that kind of person. She was a great companion, often straightforward, humorous, and adventurous. Kindhearted. I liked her.

I breathed out, a stream of white flowing my mouth, looking similar to smoke. How to go about telling her? Before long, I smirked, following a train of thought and starting with, "Once upon a time…"

"Ace!" Voski complained, elbowing me sharply in the side and glaring.

"Alright, alright. I'll tell it seriously," I said, bumping shoulders with her as I chuckled. It was going to be difficult to open up to her entirely because I'd never done that with anyone for a long time, not about this. Really, though, she felt like someone I could trust and that's exactly what I was going to do. I was going to trust her.

* * *

"This better be damned important," Thatch snarled, kicking his slippers off at the door and rubbing his bare arms. He hadn't even bothered to get dressed. Just came over in slippers and pajama bottoms and expected something to be wrong.

"…If it wasn't important, I wouldn't have called you," Marco told him, raising a brow. "I mean, why would I want your whiny ass in my house at two o' clock in the morning?"

The brunette chuckled, facing Marco as he wagged his finger in the air, sticking his tongue between his teeth. "Right. Ace is in love with you. Need I say more? Yeah, no, didn't think so. Best comeback _ever_."

"Dill hole," the blonde muttered before gesturing for the other to follow him upstairs, to his office. Once inside the room, he pushed Thatch into the chair, reached over his shoulder, and played the recording. It started with Ace lazing around in his bed, one leg out of the covers, looking completely at ease where he was. Then he sat up and when he began to disappear, he looked at his arms, seeming unperturbed by it. To Marco, it literally looked like something invisible was eating the boy. But maybe Ace saw something he couldn't. Once the recording got to the point where Ace was no longer there, nothing left of him, Marco stopped it and sat down on his desk, meeting Thatch's gaze.

"What the hell was that?"

"Don't ask me. I was hoping you might be able to help with this," the blonde told him, shrugging. "So, I'm thinking…It'd be a good idea to tell Pops. Don't wake the whole family, aright? I don't want to scare anyone. If we keep shocking them like this, they're all going to start having heart attacks at an early age. The stress isn't good for them."

"Oh, and it's good for us?" Thatch grumbled, running fingers through his loose hair. "Ngh. What should I tell Pops? How the hell do you tell someone about something like this? What do you say?"

"Think of something. I mean…Just…explain it to him as best you can," Marco said, once again shrugging. "I'm going to Ace's place to look around. See what I can find. You never know. I might actually come across something helpful."

"I don't think anyone's awake over there," Thatch pointed out, looking at the screens.

The blonde looked at him blankly, then shook his head. "I was a pirate once upon a time, Thatch. I'd assume I know how to get into someone's house with or without their permission."

"Ooh, you bad boy," the brunette crooned, grinning half-heartedly. The situation was too weird and unnerving for him to be his usual funny self.

"It's not like I'm going to steal anything," the phoenix said, stretching his arms over his head before relaxing. "I'm taking a look around is all."

"Uh-huh. Just behave yourself."

"Never thought I'd hear _you _telling _me _that."

Thatch's grin returned, full and sincere this time. Marco left the room and headed downstairs to the front door, shaking his head at the absurdity of the situation. What the hell was he supposed to be looking for? He shoved his feet in his sneakers and went outside, crossing the street and quickly darting around to the other side of Ace's house. He knelt down next to one of the garden ornaments, a blown glass figure sticking up out of the snow, and he reached up through a hole in the lower side of it. He fished the key from inside out and, thankful for all of Dadan's support throughout the years, he went to the backdoor and unlocked it. He shut the door quietly behind him and toed his shoes off before heading to Ace's room. Fortunately, the code hadn't been changed and he was able to enter without duress.

After flicking the lights on, Marco eyed the bed in the center of the room warily. He approached it cautiously, jumping nearly a foot in the air when his phone gave a loud ding. Taking it out, he read a text from Thatch that proclaimed, _I'm almost certain the bed won't eat you. :)__  
_

"Ha ha, very funny," he said, knowing that Thatch would hear him if he was really watching the surveillance cameras. "Want to switch places?"

Marco went up to the bed, hesitantly pulling the covers and pillows out of his way. Nothing. It looked completely normal. He crawled onto the bed and felt along it, but it felt like nothing more than an expensive bed. Sighing, he went to the closet and peeked inside, flipping the light switch beside the door. Just as he was about to venture further inside, his phone dinged once again and he glanced at it, rolling his eyes as he read the text. _No thank you. On the off chance that it really is a man-eating mattress, I'd rather you not have to suffer my loss. It would be a mighty blow to your emotional well-being._

"Uh-huh. 'Cause where would I be without you and your endless pranks?" Marco questioned as he stepped into the closet. "Oh, that's right. I'd be in heaven on earth."

Another text came. _What have I ever done to make you say that?_

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe you popped all the keys off of my keyboard." The blonde crouched down as he spotted something hidden behind the hanging clothes. Yeah. He wasn't mistaken. There was something tacked to the wall. If it was just a poster, he'd still be curious. Why put a poster behind all these clothes? However, it didn't look like a poster to him. It was too dark to tell what it was, shadowed and hidden as it happened to be. When he stood and reached for the clothes, his phone chimed once more and, instead of moving the clothes as he'd planned, he checked the text.

_At least I put them back on._

"Yeah. In alphabetical order," Marco growled, shoving his phone in his pocket. "It was such a pain in the ass to fix."

The phoenix returned to what he was doing before, shoving thoughts of Thatch and his pranks to the back of his mind. Ace's clothes and their hangers fell to the floor, Marco tossing them there carelessly, not much in the mood to take caution with the boy's stuff. And, anyways, Ace wasn't here, so he couldn't complain. Once he had everything on the floor and had a clear view of what was tacked to the wall, he paused and pulled his phone out _again_, calling Thatch. "You seeing this?"

"No, the camera angle's a little off." Thatch sounded calm, probably because he'd been given the chance to joke around. Still, he hesitated before saying, with a hint of humor in his voice, "We should've done this from the start. Much easier than the text-talk thing we had going a minute ago."

"Uh-huh," Marco agreed, rubbing his temple as he stared at the wall. "You know what would be even easier? If you came over here and we talked in person. I left the back door open and the code to Ace's door is 41936. I need a second opinion. Oh, and do hurry."

"Alright, alright. Jeez. I should've just come with you in the first place," Thatch muttered, shuffling coming through the phone before the dial tone reached his ears.

The blonde put his cell back in his sweatpants pocket and breathed deeply. Attached to the wall with heavy-duty nails were white wings. They still writhed, as if they hadn't been there long, muscles twitching and trying to escape the grip the nails had them in. They were coated in a thin layer of short patchy, dove grey hairs and had the general shape of giant bat wings. Dark, greenish-brown handprints and finger-tip sized smudges decorated the wall surrounding it, not big enough to be from Ace's hands. Marco didn't even blink when Thatch showed up next to him and gasped in surprise. Yeah. It was weird that the boy had something like this in his closet. Even weirder that the wings were still moving. But that didn't help solve the case of Ace's whereabouts.

"I'm going to search the rest of the closet, alright?" Marco said, patting Thatch's shoulder comfortingly as the man's skin paled. He didn't do so well with things like this. Pranks and sword fights were his forte. Not creepy, twitching wings tacked to the wall of a gay teenage boy's closet. He'd get over it in a second, but, until then, it was best to leave him to himself. He needed time to think. Marco probably would have been like that, too, if not for the fact that he'd faced the thing that was haunting Ace and…there wasn't much that could be worse than that.

"Mm," was all the reply Marco got.

The rest of Ace's clothes ended up on the floor, leaving no hanging items to block their view. Probably would have been better if they'd left them up. Paintings. More of those damned paintings. He hadn't realized what they were until he'd removed the white sheets that had been placed over them. Now, the creepy face of that thing was staring back at him, looking like it was half a second away from blinking. The image of his family members with those bright red eyes and blood-soaked features…He hated it. So, he took every last painting and dragged it downstairs to the fireplace in the living room. And he started burning them. One by one.

When Thatch joined him, he smiled, feeling like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. "Wanna help?"

"Hell to the yeah," Thatch replied, returning the blonde's relieved expression with one of his own. "You really hate those things, don't you?"

"Mhm." Marco snapped the frame of one of the paintings, tearing the canvas to shreds before adding it to the pile in the fireplace, watching it shrivel and burn. "I'm glad to see them gone."

The brunette followed suit, ripping up one of the paintings of himself, and grinning as he chunked it into the flames. "Ha, coming from the guy who loves art more than he loves money?"

"That, right there, is not art," the phoenix stated with no attempt at hiding his disgust. "That's the product of a boy's fear of a burden he had to suffer through alone."

"He wouldn't have been alone if he'd just told us about it," the other muttered, adding more 'kindling' to the fireplace. "But I think I can understand why he didn't tell anyone. Ace must have been terrified of what would happen if we didn't believe him. I mean, in the beginning, we really did think he was…you know, off his rocker. It must have been hard for him to hear that his own family thought he was insane."

Marco pulled in a deep breath, ignoring the thick smell of paint and smoke. "…Thatch, I'm finally getting to burn these things and, uh, you're taking away all the warm fuzzies I'm feeling. So, yeah, shut up."

"Look, all I'm saying is that it's got to be painful to want to reach out to the people you love most and yet be too scared of them turning away to actually follow through with it," Thatch continued, as if didn't care that he was stomping all over the blonde's good mood.

Scowling, Marco ran a hand through his hair. "Thanks a whole hell of lot, buddy. I was enjoying this little campfire we had going right up until you decided to start talking."

"Well, gee, sorry." Another torn painting was added to the flames. "I'll just go check the rest of Ace's room. See if there's anything you overlooked."

"Take your time. Don't forget to check the bathroom, either," the blonde said as the other went to the entrance of the living room.

Thatch froze, scowling. "I hate that bathroom."

* * *

"…So, let me get this straight," Voski began, pulling the blankets tighter around her. "You're a gay seventeen year old with a devil fruit ability?"

"Right," I answered, nodding.

"And you're in love with this Marco guy?"

I gave her a firm nod.

"And, not only is he straight, but he's also your older brother and your teacher?"

Another nod.

"And he was a pirate?"

Once again, a nod.

"But he's got a good personality, right?"

A nod.

"…He's rich, too?"

Another nod.

"…Is he hot?"

I grinned, nodding enthusiastically.

"Then I don't see the problem," she said, rather nonchalant about it.

I couldn't help feeling excited, knowing I'd found someone who didn't get awkward at the first mention of my romantic feelings for Marco. Chuckling, I fell back into the snow, my arms cushioning my head. It was pleasant. The night sky, the company of a kind companion, and the glow of a lantern nearby. We wouldn't be able to do this tomorrow. Tomorrow, we'd part ways and I didn't know if we'd ever see each other again. The music box had a vast world inside it and, after I died, I didn't know how likely it would be for me to be able to track down all of my new comrades. It would be nice to not be alone when I'm finally trapped in this place for good.

_Ugh. I'm gonna ruin my good mood if I keep this up. _I closed my eyes, humming softly with no real song in mind. Soon enough, I realized I was humming the tune of the music box. The Thieving Magpie.

Voski smirked at me from her seat on the blanket. "I do that, too. I think it's because I've been in the music box for so long."

"I'm only doing it because I've been constantly listening to it playing since I got here. Not that it really bothers me but…it's kind of on repeat…so it's stuck in my head," I replied, spreading my limbs and making a quick snow angel.

"I don't hear it anymore, even when I'm listening for it. I think it's the same for everyone else. Just a part of our daily lives, now." She watched me play in the snow, sniggering before her expression fell. "Hey, Ace, tomorrow…"

"Hm?"

"…We're taking the train, right? I mean, I don't see why we wouldn't. The Lorraine Train Station isn't far from the cabin…but…" Voski trailed off, adverting her gaze to the sky. There was nervous energy bundled up inside her. I could see it.

"Yeah. If we take the train, our trip will be shortened by a good day or two and you won't freeze to death on the way. It'll take us all the way to Golden-Doublet in just a matter of hours. Of course, it'll be sad when we finally part ways, but it's not like I'm never going to come back. I'm not immortal," I told her, sitting up once again. I knew exactly what she was thinking. I'd been thinking it, too.

She fidgeted for a moment, then sighed, glancing back at me. "I haven't known you long. Not long at all. But, here in the music box, real friends are rare and precious. Almost everyone here is a greedy, heartless criminal wallowing in self-pity. Loyalty, honesty, and reliability are hard to come by. I'm not going to say you're the first friend I've made and you're far from perfect, despite what that vain voice in your head says, but I do feel like you're one of the few people here I would trust with my deepest, darkest secrets."

"I'm glad to hear it," I responded, meeting her gaze with a slight grin. "I mean, considering I already shared my deepest, darkest secret with you."

"Oh, just go to sleep already. I'll come get you for breakfast. Oh, and I put the rings on the sartorial docking system for you," Voski informed me, getting to her feet. The sartorial docking system was what repaired the clothes provided by the sartorial rings. "…Um…Ace?"

"I'd be delighted if you're about to ask me to come inside," I told her, cracking an eye to peer up at her.

"No," she answered flatly. "I'll see you in the morning."

As she walked away, I shifted in the snow and got comfortable, not really mad at her but still muttering under my breath, "Heartless rhino clit."

* * *

"Ace, wake up," came Voski's amused voice, disturbing my comfortable sleep. "We'll be at the station in less than ten minutes."

"Mm," I grumbled, struggling to open my eyes. "Okay. Okay. I'm up."

When I finally cracked my eyes, I was greeted by Voski's grinning face and laughing eyes. She reached out and pat my head, sniggering before returning to her seat across the aisle. Sitting next to me, staring out the window, was Din. She'd taken a strong liking to me for some reason or other. I could still remember waking up with the girl standing in the snow, gazing down at me like I was a crystal ball or something just as hypnotizing. Both her and Harlow were mute, so asking her about it was useless. And, anyways, I had other things to worry about.

The train was elegantly designed, everything was red or silver with intricate, ornate gold patterns embossed, stenciled, or embroidered on every surface imaginable. From the ceiling to the floor, from the seats to the window sills, even to the dishes our food was served in. It was pretty. There was no denying that. But, after a while, my eyes had started to hurt so I'd opted to take a nap.

Voski had been extremely uncomfortable in the beginning, clutching her seat like she thought that might help. Now, however, she looked completely at ease. Hell, it even seemed she was highly entertained. With what? I didn't have a clue.

I stretched my arms over my head and breathed deeply, trying to wake my body up. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I quickly peeked out the train window to see that we were indeed in Golden-Doublet. It was still snowy. White drifting down from the sky everywhere you turned. But the buildings were made completely from gold with finely detailed statues and engravings on the walls. I knew for a fact that the richer area of Golden-Doublet had jewel encrusted houses. This place was something else. Really.

"I'll take Amigo," Voski volunteered as the train began to slow, approaching the station. "You know, since you're going to such a dangerous place and all…I just think it'd be best for me to keep him. You don't mind, do you?"

I blinked, then nodded slowly. "Not at all."

We stood as the train came to a complete stop and I helped her retrieve her bags. Din used her free hand to cling to my pants leg. Because a man, one of the train staff members, had provided me a sea stone band, meaning I didn't have to worry about my power acting up, I had changed. It was nice being able to feel the intended effect of air conditioning, but I had gotten cold pretty damned quick. Still, I was thinking about stealing the band and taking it back home with me. I could name at least two people I'd like to use it on at school. Apoo, the jackass, being one of them.

The tricky part was getting past the guy. Every single passenger was given a seastone band and I couldn't leave unless I turned one in. I flicked my eyes to Voski, then bent my head to her ear, whispering so that none of the other passengers would hear my plan. She nodded, flashing a wide smile over her shoulder. After receiving her agreement, I knelt next to Din and relayed everything to her. Despite everything (Everything being her creepiness.), I did actually like the kid. She was cute, quiet, and obedient. If I told her not to leave fingerprints on the window, she didn't touch the damned window.

Once I was done talking to my companions, I resumed waiting in line as everyone disembarked from the locomotive, a lightweight bag over my shoulder. Voski was in front of me, also carrying a bag, and Din was behind me. We were the last ones that would be getting off this cart. The rest of our group was in another of the train cars, but I was sure we'd meet up outside.

They'd all become strangely attached to one another. Yoshigi and Itzal were like best friends all of sudden. Both of them crept me the fuck out, so it wasn't too surprising they'd end up together. Tane and Delta pretty much stuck to Saffron, who spoiled them rotten. Harlow had also taken an interest in the animals…and the boy's red hair. She was oddly fascinated by it. Din had become practically glued to me since early this morning. I wasn't quite sure why. Serkan and Voski happened to enjoy conversing over recent events, anomalies, complex mathematical equations, etc. They were both the smart charismatic, talkative type and, as long as they were talking, the subject didn't matter. On the other hand, Serkan's son, Dulce, was rather…antisocial and always had a perpetual grumpiness about him, wearing a deep scowl constantly.

As we approached the door of the train car, Voski held her arm out to the guy waiting, who then used a tiny key to unlock her cuff. As he did so, I surveyed his surroundings, knowing Voski was likely doing the same. There were labeled drawers embedded in the wall behind him, informing a person whether the bands inside were meant for toddlers, children, teens, young adults, adults, large adults, or extra large adults. They were left open and could be shut with a quick bump from the man's hip. Attached to the wall just below the drawers were small pegs and, dangling from each peg, were two keys, identical to the key the man was using. Each peg had a name tag, meaning every employee that worked the train car had their own key and a spare. The only thing between me and that wall was the counter the man was standing behind. Atop the counter was a button that he immediately pressed after putting away Voski's band.

With the press of the button, the glass door before Voski slid open with a hiss and, as she made to take a step, she faked a stumble and the guy rushed to reach over the counter to steady her with a firm hand. During this, Din scurried behind the counter and snatched one of the keys, along with a handful of the 'young adult' bands. By the time Voski had thanked the man and continued on outside, the girl had stuffed the bands and key into the pocket of my jeans. Now, it was my turn to hand in my band. I let him remove it and then I picked Din up so he could get to her wrist without having to come around the counter.

"There's no work like teamwork," Voski told me after we'd joined her outside.

I snorted, eyeing the crowd around us in hopes of seeing the rest of our group. It was quite the mob, everyone pushing and shouting at one another, trying to get to the same place all at the same time. I snagged Voski's arm, hitched Din up a little higher on my hip, and hung back. It'd be easier to wait for the place to calm down a little before we tried to shove people around. With how moody others could get, I wouldn't be surprised if a fight broke out here in a minute. It wasn't helping that Din kept snapping her puppet at anyone who got too close.

The train station building was made of gold, like the rest of Golden-Doublet, and there were large, thick glass windows high above, letting in a soft white glow. Opulent columns supported the ceiling, keeping it from collapsing under the weight of the snow that would eventually be scraped off, just so it could pile on again. It was a large and spacious area, a breeze whistling through from the open ends of the building and putting a chill in the air. I knew it was cold because of the look on Voski's face. After a few minutes, I was tempted to use my devil fruit ability to scare away the crowd. I could just blame it on Nikolaschka being a cold spot and they wouldn't be able to punish me. …Actually, that sounded like a really good idea. But I was wearing the outfit Briar had given to me and, while it wasn't my favorite of the ones I'd picked up so far, I did like it and, therefore, I didn't want to burn it. One of these days, I would have enough control over my power to be able to decide what I burned and what I left untouched. Hopefully.

"Ace!"

I lifted my head, peering through the crowd. Before I knew it, Saffron had pushed his way though several sets of knees and attached himself to my legs, Delta clinging to his back. Following behind him was the rest of the group. Amigo was being led by Tane, oddly enough, and Harlow was perched on the bird's back. She wiggled her fingers in a little wave when she met my gaze. I returned the wave, then grinned down at Saffron, ruffling his hair. "Hey, kid. You got everything you need?"

"Mhm!"

"Are we missing anybody?" Voski asked, doing a quick head count. "Okay! We're good! Let's go, let's go, let's go!"

* * *

_**Sorry that it took so long guys. I got really distracted reading other stories. A lot of other stories. From all over the place. Yep. Anyways, this is the longest chapter I've written so far. It came out to 17 pages while, usually, they don't make it to longer than 10. I feel kind of, sort of good. Oh, and sorry if it feels forced. It is. D: I'll finish this story if it kills me.**_


	22. Is That A Penis In A Jar?

"Uh, guys, can you give us a minute?" Voski gave the others an apologetic smile as she said it, gesturing to me to give them a hint as to who she wanted to talk to. We were in the town square, not too far from the train station, and it was time for us to part ways. She was going to use the nearby portal to head to Moonwalk and I was going to go across town to Toothache's home.

Before they distanced themselves from us, Saffron gave me an inquisitive glance to which I responded with a clueless shrug. Like I'd know what she wanted.

"So…Yoshigi is going with you," she pointed out, as if she thought I hadn't already deciphered that little puzzle.

"Yeah. Isn't it just wonderful?" I muttered sarcastically.

"He's actually really nice." She paused, making an unusual expression before adding, "Kind of weird, but nice all the same."

"I've barely talked to him since meeting him." Scowling, I fingered the seastone band around my wrist. I'd put one back on, just to keep my companions, and other bystanders safe. We were in the middle of a city and, while the streets weren't overflowing, they weren't exactly empty either. And I wasn't in the habit of setting other people on fire. Okay, that's a lie. I sort of, kind of am. Boa Marigold could attest to that. "If he liked me, you'd think he'd at least try to talk to me. Preferably give a reasonable explanation as to what he was doing in the Sartorial Skyscraper."

"He's shy," she said defensively. "Also, what he was doing was going crazy. Every time he came back to life, the paper models killed him. Again and again. Over and over. Plus, he'd technically been trapped in that place since its birth. That would drive anyone insane, alright?"

I put a hand to my forehead and grumbled incoherently to myself before holding up three fingers, ticking them off as I spoke. "First off, he's not entirely innocent. He may have been trapped in Paper Dandelion, but it was his own creations that started it and he wasn't the only one suffering from it. Second, my hands are so full with my personal brand of crazy that I don't have time to deal with his. Third, he didn't look very shy when he opened up to you and Saffron."

She paused, obviously debating on how to reply to that, then she said, "Well…You're right about one thing. You do have a lot on your plate, what with all this pixie shit going on. But you took in Saffron, so what's the big deal with letting Yoshigi tag along?"

"…He's creepy?" I suggested. "I think he should go with you. You two get along better. I mean, seriously, give me one good reason to let him stick with me."

"He says you're cute," she blurted, flinching at her own words. Hell, I flinched, too. "Wow, okay. Probably shouldn't have told you that."

Uncertain how to respond, I pursed my lips, running a hand through my hair. She didn't say anything to help continue the conversation and, after a tense and awkward moment of silence, I spoke up. I meant to make it sound like a question, but it came out more as a statement than anything. "That was just a joke, wasn't it…"

"Heh." She shuffled her feet in the snow on the ground, staring intensely at her booted toes. Then she licked her lips and met my gaze. "Don't tell him I said anything."

"…Oh, this is just great! I should have known he was gay! He's a fashion designer, for fucks sake!" I growled, rubbing at my face with my free hand. My other hand was holding my bag of what few items I owned here. Unfortunately, I didn't have any creep repellent with me. "Why do I always attract the creeps? Is there something about me that says 'I want to do strange things with you' or what? I don't get it."

She decided not to answer that. Although, despite my protests, she did pinch my ear and drag my head closer to hers, hissing, "…_Seriously_, don't tell him I told you."

I yanked away from her, reaching up to touch my ear softly. "Damn. You act like you think I'm going to go up to him and confront him about it."

"Right, sorry," she said begrudgingly, sighing. "It's just…he can be really weird."

"Yeah. I know. That's the problem," I retorted, shaking my head.

"…Uh-huh. That aside…Well, uh, what I wanted to talk to you about was…I'm glad I got to meet you, despite the situation you're in. You're…something else." Voski's face split into a grin and she hitched her backpack higher up on her shoulder. "I left you a little something to remember me by, but I'm not telling you what it is. You'll know when you see it."

"Do I even want to know?" I mumbled, but I was smiling. I was happy to hear those words. "Right. I guess I should return the favor and be serious for once. So, I, uh…I hope we cross paths again. I mean, sometime in the distant future, I'd really like for us to get to see each other. If you get what I'm saying."

"I get what you're saying, Ace," she assured, chuckling. "And I can't agree more."

She darted forward and wrapped her arms tightly around my rib cage, pressing her forehead against my collarbone. I patted her back comfortingly, more at ease embracing Voski than I had been when with Yvette, though I'd known one longer than the other. "You're not going to get emotional all over me, are you?"

"No," she denied, though her voice was shaking and she sounded like she was about to start choking up. "…Yeah, I am, alright? Don't judge me, you asshole."

"Uh," I said eloquently, not quite sure how to go about doing things. "I'm not…judging you."

"Oh, shut up, you idiot," she demanded as she pulled away, tears clinging to her lashes. I wanted to run or scream…or something. I absolutely could not stand it when people cried. I hated it when I cried. I hated it when other people cried. Just, no. "I'm not good with this kind of stuff, Ace."

"…I can tell." I stood there uncomfortably as she dried her eyes on her sleeve, flicking my gaze around nervously.

With no warning at all, she punched me in the shoulder, drawing my attention and a pained expression. Pointing a finger in my face, she sternly told me, "When you get out of here-and you'd better-I want you go to that Marco guy and tell him you love him, you hear? Things will never change, otherwise, and don't even pretend you're okay with it. Keep on and the next thing you know, you're going to be in the music box and the guy of your dreams is going to be beyond your reach. Yeah, not a happy ending there, buddy boy."

"Telling him isn't going to give me a happy ending, either," I grumbled, rubbing at the spot she'd hit.

Voski latched her hands onto my arms, forcing me to meet her stare. "You don't know that for certain, okay? From what I gathered, the bond your family shares is only as strong as it is because everyone accepts one another. You're supposed to care about each other, no matter what, right?"

"…Yeah," I admitted.

She let go of me, but didn't step back. I almost felt like she was crowding me. "Then, even if he doesn't get _with _you, he's not going to _shun _you. I mean, that is, if he's as good a brother as you made him out to be."

"He is," I snapped, going on the defensive. My family was very important to me and I believed that all of them were good people, if not perfect.

"Then you'll tell him?" She was watching me expectantly, eyebrows raised in a silent challenge. Really. This woman.

"…I don't know," I muttered after a moment.

She huffed out an exasperated breath. "Will you at least think about it? Like, _seriously _think about it?"

"…Ngh…Sure."

Grinning triumphantly, she leaned forward and planted a kiss on my cheek, which I immediately balked at. Then she turned and went over to Saffron, taking Delta and Amigo's reins from the boy, who pouted at the loss. As she walked away, she didn't look back, merely calling over her shoulder, "Bon voyage!"

I sighed, staring after her. I was legitimately sad to see her go, but happy that she was going. Leaving me meant she wouldn't have to worry about being ambushed by rabid pixies, though, honestly, she hadn't seemed worried about it anyway. The others joined me, Din reaching out to tug on my pants in a silent plea for me to pick her up again, and Saffron looking like he was a half-second away from all out bawling. He was as bad as Voski and I hated the thought that he might actually cry here in a second. Still, loitering here in the street wasn't going to solve anything. I scooped the little girl up then patted Saffron's head, gesturing for him to follow me.

While Voski, Delta, and Amigo may no longer be with us, our gathering was still rather big. As we moved through the streets, towards the richer districts, I felt people eyeing us from their windows. We continued in silence, which I wasn't used to after all that time with Voski, one of the most talkative and frank people I'd ever met. After a bit, I thought of something that actually aroused my curiosity. The balcony door had been shut in Paper Dandelion, but Harlow had been there and the rest of her group had already been in Nikolaschka. How did they get here without going through the Sartorial Skyscraper?

"Hey, Serkan, how did you and Harlow get separated?" I questioned as we continued walking through the snowy streets.

He flicked his gaze to me, eyeing me warily. "…There was a bit of confusion in which portal we should take to get here. She went through the wrong one."

"Oh?" I reached my hand out to run my fingers over a light pole as we passed it. "Where did you guys come from?"

He faltered, then quickly spat out, "Rabo-De-Galo."

_Liar_, I thought, but smiled on the outside. The only portal in Rabo-De-Galo lead to Lime-Rickey and Lime-Rickey had a handful of portals, none of which lead to Jack-Rosé. So, whatever Serkan was hiding had to do with Harlow. Just what was so important about her? Was it because she was a science experiment? …Maybe she could do more than he and his pals were letting on. Might as well fish for information. Couldn't be much worse than the awkward silence. "What does Project ID stand for, anyways?"

"Immigration Destination," he said after a moment of consideration.

"That makes sense. …How old is this project of yours?"

"Thirty or so years." He looked to me, raising his brows. "Why so interested? I thought we dropped this conversation the other day."

"Eh, well, I didn't see the harm in trying to get to know more about what you were doing. If I'm bothering you, all you have to do is say so and I'll pester someone else," I told him, trying to hide my curiosity.

"…No, it's not you who's bothering me. It's just…Look, I'm not going to change my mind. I've decided that it'd be best if everyone just stayed in the music box," he informed me in a low voice. "You can't talk me out of it."

"I wasn't trying to," I replied.

* * *

Marco stood at the entrance of Ace's closet, eyeing Thatch's broad back with interest. The aforementioned man was sitting on the floor, sifting through a shoe box full of labeled Polaroids. Next to the box was a vintage instant camera with a worn neck strap. The blonde recognized it as the one Ace used to carry around with him before he'd started acting like something had crawled up his ass and died. As he approached, he studied the Polaroids in Thatch's hands, his eyes widening.

"Hey, I remember those," he said, kneeling down next to the other man and stealing a Polaroid from him. "Ace said he'd torched these!"

Thatch's brows rose as he flicked the edge of one Polaroid. "You asked him about them?"

"Of course. I mean, I wanted them; he said he didn't. They've got a lot of precious memories and I didn't want them to go down the drain," Marco replied, smiling down at the one he was holding. He reached into the box and pulled out a handful more. Each Polaroid was labeled with a date and location. Some of them were of zoo animals or leafless trees enveloped in snow in the park or the river they used to fish at. Places they went to together. Others were of Marco skating at the skate rink, bowling at the local bowling alley, playing games at the arcade, eating pizza at the pizzeria, etc. etc. And then there were some of Ace, always grinning, looking like he was enjoying himself. "I about near killed him when he told me he'd burned them. He had one hell of a black eye after that scuffle, that's for sure."

"If you look on the back, some of them have notes," Thatch told him, snickering.

Marco went through them, flipping them over to see which ones were scribbled on and which ones weren't. The notes consisted of things Ace had learned about Marco, such as that he didn't like pineapples on his pizza and preferred vanilla ice-cream to chocolate or that he supported equal rights for all and he was left-handed. Most of the notes were of traits that the blonde thought of as trivial. "Well, this kind of freaks me out."

"I think it's cute." The brunette began putting the Polaroids back in the shoe box. "A little obsessive, but we established that already."

"…Yeah, don't remind me," Marco muttered. "Find anything else?"

* * *

We were enjoying another bout of awkward silence when I spotted a certain mansion. It stuck out like a sore thumb. All the buildings surrounding it were made of gold and caked with jewels and covered in ornate carvings and statues of naked ladies, lions, dolphins, etc. But the mansion in question was not. It was your classic Gothic mansion complete with wrought iron gates, a myriad of curtained windows, and mauve brick exterior. The gates had been left unlocked and I pushed them open with my free hand. Din squirmed on my hip, a smile stretching across her face as she looked at the mansion before us, seeming satisfied with its appearance. Saffron was more intimidated than happy, hesitating to enter the confines of the tall fence. I ushered him and the others in, not giving them the time to decide not to join me. Serkan, Itzal, and Dulce stood back once we were at the door, obviously wanting me to be the one to pester the pixie inside the house.

Serkan had mentioned going to his source and the only pixie I can imagine being willing to give the guy what he'd needed for his experiments…would be Toothache. He wasn't like the other pixies. He wasn't ambitious or volatile, despite the fact that he was probably the smartest pixie there was, therefore the strongest. I mean, compared to him, the other pixies had nursery rhymes for brains. However, he had become lazy over time. He only got up off his ass if something piqued his interest or if he felt it was absolutely necessary for the continuation of his lethargic, mellow lifestyle. Even-tempered, aloof, and tolerant…Yeah, he was my favorite pixie.

Sighing, I set Din down and grabbed the knocker, banging away at the door. I wasn't polite or gentle about it. I just kept pounding away until the door flung open and sleepy eyes peered at me. "Good evening, Toothache."

"How many times do I have to tell you? My name is Trickfoot," he complained, opening the door wider and stepping aside.

I entered, the others trailing after me. Toothache eyed them curiously, his drowsy expression barely wavering when his gaze touched on Serkan. He shut the door behind us, gesturing for me to lead the way. I went straight to the sitting room, watching as Toothache took a seat at the only wing-back chair. Everyone else found themselves a spot easily, gathered around the large tea table in the middle of the room. Itzal, Serkan, and Yoshigi stuffed themselves onto one divan with Tane draped across their laps. Me, Din, and Dulce gathered on the other. Saffron and Harlow took to the floor in front of the two divans, eating sugar cookies off of a silver platter on the table.

Toothache was perhaps the most human looking of the pixies I'd met so far. I'd even go so far as to call him attractive. While he did have some pixie attributes, such as the lack of pupils in his sea foam green eyes, he had many other traits that could be seen on humans. Tousled vibrant copper blonde hair cut short, very hominid teeth, slim build, drowsy countenance, stubble along his jaw, all of which was wrapped up in over-sized jungle green cargo pants and a baggy black sweater. However, what made it obvious that he wasn't human were the four horns atop his head, all a bright silvery gold, though small. He'd also mentioned that he had wings, though I'd yet to see them for myself. He'd never been without a shirt around me.

"How's your tooth?" I asked, ignoring it when Din crawled into my lap.

"Better. Thanks for asking," he replied, scrutinizing Din inquisitively. "I know why you're here, Ace, and I'm more than willing to help. However, can it wait until after I'm done speaking with Mister Serkan?"

"Privately?" Serkan added, making it obvious that he didn't want me around for their chat.

"…Sure." I glanced at the platter of cookies, only to find that Saffron and Harlow had gobbled all of them up. I sighed, looking at Toothache pointedly. "If I have to leave so soon, you better give me money so I can get some food."

The pixie nodded, reaching into his pocket to fish out a handful of cards. He handed them to me, watching with mild amusement when I flipped through them, adding it up in my head. Din slid to the floor when I stood, following behind me as I headed back towards the door. I came to a halt, my hand on the doorknob as I gazed down at the girl. She snapped her puppet's teeth together, smiling.

"Okay, look, hon. If you want to come with me, you've got to put that thing away," I told her, my brows knitted.

She hesitated, looking uncomfortable, but she did take it off. As her fingers slipped out into open air, I finally figured out why Din was so attached to the puppet. Her entire hand was coated in small, blue-black scales that thinned out around her wrist. Her fingernails were short and blunt, a dark blue with a metallic shine. I knelt in front of her, gently taking her hand and running my fingers over the scales. It was like touching a snake. You expected it be rough and hard, but it was actually smooth and somehow soft.

"Wow," I mumbled before she snatched her hand back and shoved it into her puppet. "That actually looks really cool."

Saffron and Yoshigi, followed by Tane, slid through the hallway and up the stairs, passing right by us. I cocked my brow and whistled softly to get Saffron's attention. He glanced back and then smiled. "Yoshigi's gonna teach meh 'ow tah read. Wanna join?"

"No, thank you. I'm going somewhere, but good luck with that," I answered, waving as I opened the door and ushered Din outside. I placed my hand atop her head as the door clicked shut behind us. "They have an amazing restaurant just down the street. Really big place. It's expensive as hell but so worth it."

* * *

"Slow down there, tike," I said, chuckling as I glanced quickly at my pocket watch. Din grinned across the table at me, reaching out to grab a buttery garlic biscuit. "Or don't."

We had quite the arrangement at our table. Platters stacked high with food, some I'd never seen before, others I was very familiar with. Fried shrimp with an odd dip I assumed was sour cream, skewered crocodile meat cooked in peanut oil with a salty tasting sauce, thick sausage oozing fatty juices, oh so cheesy baked potatoes, steaks topped with eggs, chicken nuggets made with a crunchy sour cream and onion batter…But what made the biggest impression on me were the meatballs. They weren't your average meatballs, trust me. They were no bigger than a newborn's fist, coated in a golden sauce and overflowing with flavor. I'd taken quite a liking to them.

Din stuck a handful of chicken nuggets down her gullet and scrambled for her drink, which was a translucent, vivid pink liquid with a distinctly fruity smell. She downed it, giggling as she set the cup back down. I couldn't help but smile. She was so damned cute when she wasn't wearing the puppet. I mean, I knew it was on the seat beside her, but it was out of sight and that was just wonderful. I shook my head, determined to tear into the food before she ate it all. It take us long to plow through our dinner and we still had room for desert. The little girl had a surprisingly big appetite. One that could rival my own.

As I went to get up, Din pointed a finger at me, furrowing her brows. I froze, not quite sure what she wanted. "Do you want me to…stay here?"

She gave a quick nod, holding her hands out towards me as she hurriedly backed away. When she returned, she was struggling to balance a multitude of plates on her head and arms. I leaned out of the booth we were seated at and snatched some of them from her, putting them on the table. I surveyed the deserts and, noticing her expectant look, gave her a thumbs-up. She slid into her seat again, wearing a broad smile.

She'd brought back a bunch of chocolaty deserts and, by that, I meant…Yeah, she was a girl. No doubt about it. Hot-fudge double chocolate cake, chocolate pie, chocolate brownies, chocolate chip chocolate cookies…stuff like that. Not that I was complaining. I was a food person. I liked…food…In general. And veggies don't count as food.

I chuckled as Din dug in eagerly. "Hey, hey. No need to rush. We can always get more. It's an all-you-can-eat buffet."

The next time I checked my pocket watch I noticed how late it was getting and reluctantly informed Din that we needed to head back. Just as I was about to try the steak and potato stew. Damn. Seeing as I had paid at the door, we could just walk out without having to wait for a check. And that's exactly what we did.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" I asked as the snow surrounded us once more and she raised her arms to me, as if she wanted to be picked up.

She bobbed her head in answer, but wouldn't be distracted from her goal. In a matter of seconds, she had started tugging on my pants leg, wildly gesturing for me to hoist her onto my hip and, after a bit, I gave in and gathered her into my arms. It was then that I noticed something and halted in the middle of the sidewalk.

I grabbed her hand and said, "Where is it?"

She looked baffled before recognition flooded her expression and she dug in her jacket pocket. Out came the creepy puppet and back in it went.

"Oh," I mumbled. "I thought you liked wearing that thing. What's up? Did you get a stain on it?"

She shook her head, her hair moving with the motion and catching the fading orange light cast by the sun. She patted my cheek with that hand and grinned. I actually wanted her to be able to talk. Her expressions were…lacking, as if she wasn't used to smiling and frowning, and I couldn't tell quite what she was thinking. I mean, sometimes it was obvious, but other times it was too complex for me to work out.

I sighed. "Ah, if you could talk, you'd tell me a lot of things, wouldn't you?"

Another one of her inexperienced smiles.

"Oh, well. It's fine like this." I shifted her around in my arms and, without another word, headed straight back to Toothache's house.

It was a short walk, filled with a comfortable silence. Din laid her head against my shoulder and, soon enough, her breathing evened out and her eyes slid closed. I myself was beginning to get drowsy, which was a norm for me after eating, and I quickened my pace. The last thing I wanted was to have a sleep spell out here in the snow. As I closed the door to the mansion, she stirred and made a soft sound in her slumber before curling her fingers tightly in the material of my jacket, looking comfortable where she was at.

"You're back. Finally," Toothache muttered as I peeked into the sitting room. I put a finger to my lip and jerked my head towards the stairs, motioning to the girl's form. "Yeah, yeah. You know where the guest bedrooms are."

I gave him a grateful smile and headed up the stairs, careful not to jostle Din. I opened the first door on the right and, after stripping off her jacket and boots, tucked her into the bed, setting her puppet down on the bedside table. I didn't like the thing, but it was hers, just like Luffy's hat was his. I set her boots next to the door and hung the jacket on the doorknob before going back downstairs. Toothache barely glanced up when I entered the room and collapsed onto a divan, propping my feet on the table.

"So…Those guys your friends?"

"The majority of them are just…acquaintances," I explained. Then, reminded of something, I put my feet back on the floor and leaned forward. "While we're on this subject, I have a favor to ask of you."

His brows rose significantly. "…A favor? I'm going to give you the equipment needed to beat the shit out of pixies and you want me to do you a favor?"

"…Yep." I smiled sheepishly.

He huffed out a sigh, narrowing his eyes. "What is it?"

"I want you to adopt Saffron."

For a second, I thought he hadn't heard me. He didn't immediately react, no change in expression or even a reply, but then he said, "…The little boy?"

"Yeah."

"No."

"Oh, come on," I protested, pouting.

The pixie shook his head, pursing his lips. "No."

"But-!"

"No, Ace," he said firmly.

"Why not?" I asked, losing the whiny tone to my voice.

Toothache paused, then slowly got to his feet, looking down at me with a calm outer exterior. "Because he'll be a nuisance. Now, either you can follow me to my lab or you can stay here. The choice is completely up to you."

I sighed, wondering what I was going to do about Saffron. I couldn't just dump him off on someone. I wanted to leave him with someone I trusted not to abuse him, sell him, or send him back to Batida. It didn't look like Toothache was going to be that guy.

* * *

Toothache handed me an armful of junk, humming softly in his throat as he peered around his lab. It was a complete mess. There wasn't a single clean, open surface anywhere in the room. The floor and counter tops were overflowing with pieces of metal, jars and vials, tools such as hammers and tongs, stacks of books and notepads, some open to reveal sketches of designs and the pixie's messy scrawl and dog-eared pages. Things were piled up haphazardly. One precariously towering heap contained two toolboxes, several flasks, a bunch of books, a monkey wrench, and a blowtorch. Not in that order. The state of Toothache's lab was…Dangerous. One wrong move and I could destroy the whole place.

Looking down at the stuff in my arms, I quickly shoved it off on the nearest surface that looked like it might possibly hold under the added weight and stared at my hands dubiously. I looked back at the stuff I'd been holding, a shiver running down my spine. "Is that a penis in a jar? …Actually, don't answer that."

"Hm? Did you say something?" Toothache, who had been crouched down and sifting through a mass of metal doodads and gadgets, looked up at me questioningly. When I didn't immediately reply, he went back to searching for…whatever he was searching for. "I'm sure I left it somewhere in here."

"Uh…Couldn't you…I don't know…clean this place up a little? Even Luffy's room is better than this…" I edged cautiously past another stack of miscellaneous items and approached the pixie. He was rearranging things, not in any obvious order, when he finally stopped and hopped to his feet. In his hands, he had something I couldn't really put a name to. It looked like a dragon made of a shiny, dark silver metal about as long as my forearm. I couldn't really get a good look at it, seeing as Toothache's hand was in the way, but it looked important and new.

"Come here, Ace," he said, gesturing me over.

I approached cautiously, flinching when he reached out and grabbed my left arm. He brought the dragon thing up to my limb, giving me just enough time to examine it before he clamped it into place. The arms, legs, and tail acted as bracelets of sorts, clasping together and wrapping around my arm to keep the dragon structure fixed to me. The end of the dragon's tail was an inch long needle that pricked into my flesh while the head of the dragon, mouth agape, rested on my wrist. The body of the dragon was what appeared to be a container for an ammunition cartridge of some sort.

"What the hell is this thing?" I asked, not daring to touch it for fear of what it might do. It could be a bomb for all I knew. One wrong move and it might blow up. I didn't want that. It'd kill me, or at least take a limb or two.

"It's a bomb launcher."

"Ngh." I moved my arm further away from me, holding it out to the side. "So…There's a bomb in this thing?"

"Multiple bombs." Toothache went back to searching through the mess on the floor, unworried. "But don't worry. As long as you have that seastone band on, it can't do anything. It's made to run off of your power."

I paused, glancing at the thing attached to my arm doubtfully before bringing it in closer for a better look. I removed the cartridge with a firm press of my thumb against the top of the dragon's head. The cartridge was a long tube about as thick around as my two forefingers put together and made from the same material as the rest of the dragon with a twist cap at the top. If it had any bombs in it, they were going to be awful small. "…A twist cap…Isn't that a bit dangerous if I want to reload quickly?"

"I'll give you more than one cartridge. And they self eject once emptied, so all you have to do is pop another one in when you need to. Easy, right?" He stood up again, holding a blue pouch out to me. "Here. These are the other cartridges."

I accepted it, seeing its small size and peeking inside to see only three other cartridges. I was actually really curious what the bombs looked like and how many could fit into one cartridge. It'd be nice to know how many shots I had. "Is it safe to open these?"

"Yeah. Go right ahead. Just be sure to put everything back together," he told me absentmindedly, preoccupied with his search of the lab. "I have more stuff for you, so give me a minute."

As he went about his way, I twisted the cap off of one of the cartridges and let the bombs fall into my palm. The bombs were black orbs no bigger than the last digit of my thumb with small, almost nonexistent fuses. There were ten in the cartridge, meaning I had forty in total. As I finished putting them back and placing the cartridges in their rightful spots, I sighed. Seeing how small the bombs were, I couldn't imagine them doing much damage. It was a bit disappointing.

"Okay! Your dagger!" He came rushing back to my side from the other end of the room, knocking over several stacks of…stuff…as he came. He was holding a sheathed dagger in front of him, smiling and ignoring the ruckus of things clattering to the ground or shattering upon impact. I accepted the proffered weapon hesitantly, examining it. The sheath was pea green with dark brown stripes and silver rings embedded into it. The handle of the dagger was made from firm cedar with silver decorations similar to those on the sheath. The dagger itself was slight curved and a little less than a foot long. The blade was made of silver with some kind of pinkish gold material lining the cutting edge of the blade. The very tip of the blade was made completely out of the mysterious material. "I will explain how everything works…in just a minute. I still have one more thing for you."

"…I appreciate the help but…I don't need a dagger. I don't plan on letting the pixies get that close." I sheathed the item and stood there awkwardly, watching as Toothache blatantly ignored me. "Look, if they get that close, I'm as good as dead, no matter what."

"Aha! Here it is!" He hopped up from his position on the floor nearby and grinned at me. "You're gonna like this."

I paused as I gazed at what he had. It looked like a nail gun. Only a little different. A cord was hanging from it with a Velcro strap at the end, a needle poking out from the inside of it. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Nail gun? Yeah. Made just for you," he answered, holding it out to me.

I eagerly grabbed it, letting him take the Velcro strap and tighten it around my right arm, the needle slipping into me. I pointed the gun at the wall and bit gently down on my tongue, squeezing one eye shut as I pretended to aim down the sight of the homemade nail gun. Toothache attached a crude holster to my belt, rolling his eyes at me. All those years of playing violent video games really influenced my taste in weaponry. "This is so cool."

"Alright. Let's talk about how these things work, alright?" The pixie snapped his fingers at me, putting his hand atop the gun and forcing me to point it at the floor. "Okay. There are a hundred nails for that gun, all made from pixie horns. The nails are four inches long each. They are deadly to my kind, but it's kill or be killed. Make every shot count. Pixies have varying body types, so their hearts can be located in any part of their body, but the brain is always in the same place. Meaning head shots are best. The gun is powered by your ability, just like the bomb launcher. Keep the needles in your arms every second of every minute that you're in Caipirinha. That's very important."

"Are the bombs lethal, too?" I asked.

"No. They're gas bombs. Knock-out gas, to be exact. And don't worry. It's a special chemical that'll work on pixies, but not on humans. You'll be fine," he explained. "The dagger has been enhanced with pixie horn, so if you do get into close combat with a pixie, you'll at least have a chance of getting out of it alive."

I gave the bomb launcher an appreciative glance, smirking. "So…This special chemical. Is there a way I might be able-"

"No. What you have is all you're getting. I'm not telling you what it is or where to get it. The next time you need some, you can get it from me. It's too dangerous to leave that kind of information with you," Toothache said, glowering softly at me. "Don't ask about it again."

I nodded in understanding, despite the fact that I was highly dissatisfied. "Okay, okay. I get it."

"Now, then. There should be some smoke bombs and iron nails in here somewhere so you can practice." He twisted around and studied his lab before letting out a loud breath. "I really need to hire someone to clean this place up."

I latched onto that and slowly grinned. "Well, there is a competent little boy upstairs. He'd probably be more than willing to earn his keep by cleaning up this mess, so long as you don't threaten to send him back home."

The pixie stilled, peeking over his shoulder at me before returning his gaze to the chaos that was his workroom. He went to lean on the nearby counter, placing his hands on the edge of it, but pulled away when his palms encountered a gooey black substance. He wiped it off on his pants with a scowl of distaste, then glanced over the rest of the room. "…I'll think about it."

"You do that," I told him as he edged past a tower of blowtorches and hammers. While he was preoccupied peeking under the counters, I bent down, picking up a bulbous sack near my feet and peered inside. Little balls the same size of the bombs of the bomb launcher were inside, all various colors. "Is this what you're looking for?"

"Ah, yes. Those are the smoke bombs. They should have a similar range as the gas, so where the smoke is should be where the gas would be. You can use those for practice," the pixie replied as he spared a glance my way. "Ah! Found the nails. So, take these and those, and go put them in whatever room you plan on sleeping in. We can practice in the backyard tomorrow. Oh, and dinner is in an hour…if you're hungry."

He was pushing me out of his lab as he was talking, shutting the door behind him. I looked up the stairs, pausing as I put my foot on the lowest step. I heard a loud crash, followed by the pixie's cursing, and I shook my head. He never changed. I continued up stairs and to an empty guest bedroom, tossing my stuff aside and putting all of my sartorial rings on the sartorial docking system in the corner of the room. It was a square column made of rainbow colored glass. It came up to my hip and had little ring slots cut into the surface of it on the exposed sides. I turned back to the bed, now nude, and just as I pulled the covers back to crawl in...I was hit with a sleep storm.

* * *

I rolled over, breathing deeply. It was rather chilly and a shiver raced its way down my body, but I still didn't want to get up. Getting up would mean having to deal with the day. But…I couldn't lie around forever. I had to get the inevitable training over with, get used to my weapons, so I could hopefully kick pixie ass when the time came to do so. I pulled in a deep breath and told myself I'd laze around for just a moment longer, slowly breathing out.

"Ace! Ace!" came a loud shout as the door to my chosen room slammed open. "Wake up, wake up! Ya 'ave tah wake up!"

"Mnngah," I grumbled in discontent, peeking out from under my bangs. "What is it, kid?"

There was a pregnant pause as Saffron stood in the doorway, eyeing me with concern. It irritated me the piss out of me and that's when I realized that I was lying naked on the floor. No wonder it was so cold. Sighing, I raised a hand above my head and gestured for him to continue, brushing my current state of nudity off. Hopefully, he'd get the drift and say what he came to say.

"Tri'foot tol' meh tah come 'n wake ya, ya know? He said ya'd be lollygaggin' 'round in 'ere," Saffron explained slowly, watching as I yawned. "He also said he'd be willin' tah take meh in if I'd start trainin' tah be his a…assis…"

"Assistant?" I smiled when Saffron nodded eagerly, pushing myself up onto my elbows and swiping the hair from my face. _I guess Toothache took my advice after all._ "Is breakfast ready?"

The kid went back to the door, answering before opening it and watching me expectantly. "Yeah."

My hair was in disarray from sleep and I wasn't going to go downstairs looking like this. I wasn't really that comfortable with some of the people in this building and I wasn't going to go walking around them with a severe case of bed head. "Tell Toothache I'll be there in a minute."

"He also tol' meh tah tell ya not tah call 'em that."

I saw the huge grin on the boy's face and I returned it with one of my own, grabbing a pillow off of the bed nearby and hurling it at him. He ducked, the pillow flying out into the hallway as he giggled. "Get lost, you little monster."

After he shut the door, I took my precious time actually getting up, though I was already awake. I'd slept in the nude, on the floor, which was better than sleeping in jeans, no matter the location. I preferred nudity. Probably because all of the times I'd passed out after having sex with Law and Kidd. Ah, the good old days. I stopped by the sartorial docking system, scooping up my many rings and putting one on. I was still wearing a seastone band, so there was no way in hell I was going half-naked again. My new ring left me wearing a grass green hoodie and black sweatpants, perfect for wandering around inside the mansion. However, I was going to be training in the backyard, without my seastone cuff, so I'd have to change clothes before then. But right now…My stomach was howling.

* * *

"Here, take this," Toothache told me, holding out a ring. It was a simple band of silver set with seven gemstones in the seven colors of the rainbow. In his other hand, he held a simple cardboard box. "It's a sartorial ring. The clothes are made of the finest fire proof materials I could afford. You won't get this kind of stuff outside of the music box, Ace."

I stared at the ring, then accepted it and put it on my left pinkie, taking my other ring off. I glanced down at the clothing in surprise. "This outfit is-"

"Similar to the one you wore the last time you were here? Yeah, I remember you telling me that you preferred wearing stuff like that. I don't know if you still do, but I doubt you don't." The pixie scratched the back of his head, looking incredibly bored. I'd long ago come to the conclusion that he looked that way naturally and it usually had nothing to do with actually being bored.

I still had these kinds of clothes. I wore a similar outfit not too long ago. Black knee-length shorts, eyelet studded orange belt, a second belt with a large red 'A' on the buckle, an open beige short-sleeve shirt, an orange elbow guard, and black boots. It was almost identical to an outfit I still owned, that was still in my closet. I smiled, so damned pleased with this little surprise. "This is one of those outfits I will never get tired of."

Toothache returned the smile, though his was a much smaller version. "Heh. Good. Now, this. You've left it here four times already. Don't forget it, again."

I instantly knew what he was talking about, even if the box had yet to be opened. My hat. I'd gotten the hat from Marco on my fourteenth birthday. I'd left it here, in the music box, knowing that Toothache wouldn't throw it away. At the time, I couldn't bear to toss it in the trash because I wouldn't know where it'd end up. I might not have been able to get it back. And I'd hated the feeling that had been brought out from that thought alone. I mean, it wouldn't be a big deal for me to buy an identical hat…but it wouldn't be the same. I had an emotional attachment to that hat. It was the last thing that Marco gave me while we were on good terms.

Sighing, I opened the box and lifted it out. Ever since I got this hat, my favorite color had been orange with red as a close second. That's why my car was orange. Examining the hat, I noticed that it was in perfect condition, not a tear or scuff in sight. The two blue smileys, the string of red beads sitting above the rim, the long side straps with the bull's skull medallion and the orange tassels…All in perfect condition. I hesitated for a long moment before I finally put the hat on. A swarm of clashing emotions warred through me instantly, but I didn't let it show. "Alright. I'm going to go train."

Toothache nodded, saying, "I'll be there in a second."

"Huh?"

* * *

He sighed, looking at the prescription container in his hand. Drugs. The bottle was full of bright blue pills that looked to be glass and, going by the label, Marco felt it was safe to assume that the pills were called anathematix. Thatch had found Ace's drug stash. A medium sized cardboard box filled with cocaine, heroin, marijuana, ecstacy, meth, opium, PCP, and a bunch of 'anathematix' and Cellixot, all carefully labeled in their separate containers. He ran a hand through his hair, growling in the back of his throat. "…Enough stalling, Thatch. Call Pops."

"But…Ugh, fine." The brunette pulled his phone from his pocket, muttering under his breath as he put it to his ear. "I hate delivering bad news."

"Me and you both," Marco replied, fetching his own phone from his pants. "Don't leave anything out."

"Would you stop worrying? I can hand-Ah! Pops? Yeah, sorry to wake you, but it's kind of important," Thatch began, picking a plastic baggy out of the box beside him and examining the contents with slight distaste written on his face. "Well, you see…It's Ace. I don't know how to explain it, but I'll give it a shot."

The blonde dialed Twiggy's number and escaped to the bedroom, leaving the explanation to Pops in Thatch's hands. As he waited for Twiggy to answer, he dug through Ace's desk drawers, not particularly surprised when he found a magazine full of nude men. He didn't hesitate to toss it on the floor, scowling at the muscular man on the cover. Then his phone connected and a groggy sounding groan came through.

"What did Ace do now, Marco?" Twiggy complained, his words heavily slurred.

Marco closed the bottom drawer of Ace's desk. "What kind of drug is anathematix?"

"Anathematix?" Twiggy asked, his voice beginning to become clearer. "I can't say I know what that is. Is it connected to a certain narcoleptic we know?"

"Yeah. I found a container of these pills in Ace's closet. It's labeled anathematix and I thought you might be able to provide more information." Marco paused, running his fingers over the slip of paper that had been placed beside the computer. He'd seen it before. The numbers and letters. Slowly, he began drawing a conclusion that should have been obvious from the start. _41936. 4 is M. 1 is A. 9 is R. 3 is C. And 6 is O. …Shit. _"Could you do me a favor and research it for me? I'm kind of busy right now, so…"

"Yeah, sure. I'll call you back if I find anything," the doctor responded, then hung up.

Marco put away his phone and tapped his fingertips on the corner of the paper thoughtfully before reaching over to turn on Ace's computer. Yeah, he knew he shouldn't be prying into the boy's privacy but…maybe he could find something. He didn't know what he might possibly find, but he figured anything would be helpful at this point. He typed the five numbers in as the password and pressed enter…And blinked when he was denied access. He bit his lip and slowly typed his name in. Once again, he was denied access. He scowled with irritation, then glanced at the teen's walls. He'd watched through the monitors in his office as Ace painted this and he already knew what it said. He didn't like that Ace was surrounding himself with such depressing things. Really. It was as if the boy was trying to remind himself of his troubles. That damned wall was a big reminder…_Unrequited love. _Sighing and trying to get past his dislike of Ace's choice in wall art, Marco entered that into the computer, but it still didn't let him in. Scowling, he leaned back in the chair and stared at the piece of paper. _Maybe convert it into numbers…No, that can't be it._

"That's way too long and hard to remember." He sighed and powered the computer off, not up for the guessing games. "Jeez, I really need to talk to that brat."

"Hey, I told Pops."

"Shit!" Marco glowered over his shoulder at the other man. The blonde had been so absorbed in his own thoughts that he'd let his guard down. "Don't scare me like that!"

"Heh, sorry, bro," Thatch said. "So…Whatcha doing?"

"Well, I was trying to crack Ace's computer password but I haven't the slightest clue what it could be, if not my name," Marco admitted, puffing out an annoyed breath. "Oh, well. That doesn't matter right now. What'd Pops say?"

Thatch pursed his lips. "He said there's really nothing we can do for Ace right now because we don't even understand what happened to him. But he sounded pretty certain that Ace would be back."

The blonde breathed deeply, relaxing in Ace's desk chair. "Pops instincts are rarely wrong. Don't tell anyone else, no matter how tempted you might be. We can't have everyone running around the island and freaking out about his absence. It won't do anyone any good."

"Then what _do _we do?" the brunette pressed, frowning.

"We wait to see what happens." Marco stood from the chair and went to the closet, turning off the light and shutting the door. He didn't bother cleaning up the mess. That could wait for another time. "I'm going to try to get some sleep before work. You?"

Thatch looked at him incredulously, shaking his head quickly. "Sleep? Now? Yeah, no. I don't think I can. The moment I get some peace and quiet, I'm gonna start thinking like a pessimist. …What if Ace actually doesn't come back?"

"Pops said he'll come back, so he'll be back. But…If he isn't back by the end of the day, which he will be but on the off chance that he _isn't_, then we can panic, okay?"

* * *

"Why are you in such a hurry? You should take the time to perfect using those weapons rather than rushing into danger with a minimal amount of training," Toothache hissed, pulling a nail out of his collar bone and tossing it onto the back porch carelessly.

We'd been training for the last six hours, only taking short food and water breaks here and there. Pixies were extremely fast and strong. On top of that, the majority of them knew how to use haki. I'd managed to amass quite the collection of bruises, bumps, and cuts. But I had managed to give him his fair share of hits, too. It'd taken me a bit to adjust to fighting against someone so fast, but I'd done it. In a matter of hours, I'd gotten to the point where I was able to put a nail in him, no problem. However, just getting the nail in wouldn't cut it. I had to get the head, which was proving to be difficult. I'd only managed once in the entire six hours I'd been training. But I couldn't stay here forever. I had to get back to my world and fast. Before anyone noticed I'd left. Or, more importantly, before I broke my promise to Law. I had to make it back in time for school. I told him I'd be there and, damn it, I was going to be there. And for that, I had to improve with these weapons.

"I'm leaving tomorrow morning, no matter what," I growled out, reloading the nail gun and leveling it on him. "Now, let's get back to what we were doing."

* * *

_**Well, I read the One Piece manga. I'm mostly caught up. From page 1 of the 1st chapter to page 1 of the 661st chapter. There are more chapters, but I'm gonna watch the anime now. Not from the very start. That would take way too long and I don't think I could bear to see Ace die again. No. I'm gonna start from right after the time skip. My friend is pressing me to get caught up so he can fawn all over Law with me. He says Law is really cool, though not particularly a good guy, and he really likes him. So, yeah, I'm gonna get caught up in the anime, too. So much stuff to watch. Ah. And I was letting the episodes pile up so I could go on a One Piece spree on my vacation. I'm going through five different states, starting on August 23rd or 26th, depending on my mom's work. We're going to visit one of my big brothers, who was stationed (army guy) in South Carolina. It'll be fun but a road trip doesn't give me time to write, so that adds onto ANOTHER long break. Sorry, guys. D: My life wasn't nearly this busy when I first published this fanfic. Aw, anyways, hope you enjoyed and have a good day or night.**_


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